Title Pending
by Jess9
Summary: COMPLETED. An intern arrives at the crime lab and things get shaken up. It's shaking now!! :)
1. Fifteen Minutes

Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned in this story (except for Emily Reese and Phil Novelhin) belong to other people, sadly enough.  
  
Author's Notes: The title really is pending. But I do think it's a cool title. So unless anyone has some suggestions, the title will remain Title Pending. (I think I just used 'title' too many times.) If there are any mistakes, I'm sorry!  
  
  
  
  
  
"Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it."  
  
    - William James  
  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE: Fifteen Minutes  
  
The three short knocks on his office door went unheard and unattended. He remained in his swivel chair, his heels on his desk, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his eyes focused on the magazine on his lap. The young woman in front of the door knocked again and tested the handle. The door opened and she poked her head inside. The man's concentration was obviously intense and the young woman quickly became more flustered than she had been prior to coming to a stop in front of Gil Grissom's door.  
  
"Mr. Grissom?"  
  
Gil Grissom's head jerked up. He frowned at blonde woman before him. "May I help you?"  
  
"Yes… May I come in?"  
  
Grissom bit his tongue and nodded. All he had wanted was a fifteen- minute break from the reigning chaos in the crime lab. He placed his feet on the ground and, after dog-earing page thirty-six, rested the February issue of the Forensic Journal on top of the clutter on his desk. She stepped inside and closed the door. She turned on her heel and walked towards his desk. She outstretched her hand and said, "I'm Emily Reese. I'm an intern from Florida."  
  
"A college intern?" Grissom asked, his voice wary. He shook her hand and immediately noticed the firm, confident manner in which she introduced herself. It betrayed her slightly shaky voice and timidity at the door.  
  
"Yes," she replied, placing herself in one of the two less than comfortable chairs before his desk. She rested a manila folder on her lap. "From the University of Central Florida in Orlando. I'm, um, graduating this April with a major in Forensic Science and a minor in Chemistry. I need fifteen weeks of an internship to graduate and I've been here for three."  
  
Grissom subtly checked the calendar hanging on the wall. "You started January fifth?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I work under Mr. Ecklie." Grissom frowned at her. She lowered her eyes and stared at the bottom of his desk before looking him in the eyes again. "That's why I'm here."  
  
Grissom sighed and said, "I'm not Ecklie's superior, Ms. Reese. If you have anything to say about him, query or complaint, you need to report to Lieutenant Wesley Knoll. His office is-"  
  
"I know where his office is, Mr. Grissom," Emily interrupted with an apologetic smile. "I've visited his office several times in the past few days. He sent me to you." Grissom raised his eyebrows and waited for more information. She cleared her throat and began twisting her hands in her lap. "Well, see, I can't work under Eck… Mr. Ecklie anymore. I've explained the situation to Lt. Knoll and he told me that if you, you know, needed an extra hand…" She shrugged.  
  
"Why can't you work with Ecklie anymore?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of complicated," she sighed. She ran her right hand through her short blonde hair and pursed her lips. "He's a good CSI and all but we just don't work together well."  
  
"Ms. Reese-"  
  
"Emily. Please." She offered a small smile.  
  
"Emily." Grissom cleared his throat and stated, "In the workplace you will run into people that you will not get along with. It happens everywhere, no matter where you work. Everyone has to adapt."  
  
"It's not that," she sighed. She frowned and said, "I just don't feel comfortable around him. Every time I look up, he's looking at me and I just feel… degraded. He makes comments and…" Grissom's face was marred by a frown and Emily quickly shook her head. She let out a short, nervous laugh and said, "I'm probably imagining it but it's immensely unnerving. I told the lieutenant that my professor at college really wanted me to work under you, which is true. The lieutenant looked through my file and saw that he did intend for me to be on your team. Lt. Knoll said he would agree to whatever you decide. Basically, it's your move."  
  
"Who's your professor?"  
  
"Dr. Phil Novelhin," she stated. "He told me he attended college with you."  
  
A smile tugged on Grissom's lips. "Phil Novelhin." Emily nodded. Grissom sighed and said, "What does an intern do, exactly?"  
  
"According to Ecklie, paperwork," Emily smiled. "I've talked to some of my peers at other crime labs and they are all doing the same things: pushing paper and observing evidence processing. Supposedly, they'll actually start the hands-on stuff in the sixth week. Oh, and they're doing their senior thesis."  
  
Grissom rested his elbows on his desk and massaged his temples with his index and middle fingers. As of late, the night shift had been swamped with cases. Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown had been clocking in for more overtime than ever. Sara Sidle and Nick Stokes were burning themselves out; they had both maxed out on overtime hours the past three weeks. Grissom found himself juggling two new cases a night and they weren't so easy to solve in twelve hours.  
  
"Is the LVCL still only accepting interns within the top ten of their graduating class?"  
  
Emily nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir."  
  
"And you're majoring in Forensic Science?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Grissom looked at the clock on the wall. 2:43 a.m. Thirteen minutes had passed since he had holed himself in his office. He nodded at her lap. "Is that your file?"  
  
"Yes, sir." She held it out to him. "Everything is in there. Transcripts, grades, reports, recommendations."  
  
"Phone number?" he asked, accepting the folder.  
  
"Yes, sir," she replied on the end of a yawn. Grissom raised his eyes to find her covering her mouth. He smiled shortly.  
  
"How long have you been working today?"  
  
Emily turned her head around to find the clock next to the calendar. "Since seven this, ah, yesterday morning. So, about twenty hours."  
  
"Is that standard for an intern?" Grissom smirked.  
  
"Apparently," she smiled back.  
  
"I'll look the file over and talk to my team. If we do indeed need your assistance, I'll call you by…" He sighed. "You have to be at work at seven?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Well, I'll be here. Find me and I'll inform you of whether or not we need assistance. It'll take about two days to get you transferred to the night crew, if all goes well." He stood. Fifteen minutes was up. He tucked the file under his left arm and walked to the door. She stood and followed him. He opened the door and said, "Get some sleep. And no more of that 'sir' stuff."  
  
She chuckled and nodded. She shook his hand once again and said, "Thank you, Mr. Grissom. Talk to you in four hours."  
  
Emily was already down the hallway as Grissom said, "It's Grissom."  
  
  
  
I hope you liked it! 


	2. Old Friends, New Enemies

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Author's Notes: I don't know a lot about forensics or internships, so this is all being pulled from nowhere. All I know is that UCF does have an amazing forensics program and I don't begin to do it justice. Also, thank you Marita for helping me!  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWO: Old Friends, New Enemies  
  
"Phil Novelhin."  
  
Grissom smiled into the receiver and said, "So, what, you think I need an intern over here or something?"  
  
A warm chuckle crossed the telephone wires. Phil Novelhin leaned back in his chair and tapped his desk with his felt-tip pen. "Gil, it's nice to hear your voice. You received my present, I presume?"  
  
"Well, someone over here did." Grissom leaned against a table in the ballistics lab. It was empty of humans but chock full of machines and firearms. "It's four in the morning in Florida, Phil. I was expecting your voicemail. What are you doing at the office?"  
  
"I'm checking out some new equipment we just received."  
  
"Oh, yes, it pays to have endless amounts of money."  
  
"So, what do you mean someone received my student?" Phil questioned. He rubbed his forehead with his left hand and said, "Is everything all right over there? She hasn't contacted me."  
  
"I'm not surprised. From her recommendations she appears to be very… independent."  
  
"Don't let that fool you, Gil," Phil smiled. "She's just a kid."  
  
"Yeah, twenty-two. She didn't even apply for an internship here, Phil," Grissom sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut. "She applied to Chicago, Dallas, Houston, Seattle, and 'Cisco. How come she wound up here?"  
  
"Because I wanted her to learn from the best. She's my brightest student in this class, Gil, not to mention the most eager and pleasing. I wanted her to work with you."  
  
"Well, she didn't get me, Phil, and now I have to make some potent people very pissed."  
  
"What do you mean, she didn't get you?"  
  
"I work the night shift and she was assigned to Conrad Ecklie, the CSI supervisor on the day shift. Emily walked into my office about three hours ago asking me if I needed an intern. Apparently, she worked the LVPD network and received permission to transfer."  
  
"They're allowing it?"  
  
"She told them that you had sent her here to work with me, but she told me that Ecklie was, more or less, harassing her."  
  
Phil sat up straight and frowned. "Kill the damn bastard."  
  
Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Getting a little personal, aren't you?"  
  
"I meet these students, Gil, at the beginning of their second year in college. I've known Emily for three years. I've taught her what she knows. I have pride in her. You know what it's like with those exceptional students. You tell me that you wouldn't defend Sara." Phil leaned back in his chair and waited. He knew he had hit a nerve with his last comment.  
  
Grissom ignored Phil and flipped through some of the pages in Emily's file. "She didn't qualify to be here, Phil. She was only number eleven."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So you care to explain that?"  
  
"Do you see what rank she had in September?"  
  
"Ten."  
  
"We have suspicions that one of the other students, a young man named Seth, cheated. That one event pushed him from number thirteen to number ten, and cost Emily her spot."  
  
"Have you reported it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're a professor, Phil," Grissom pointed out, "and you have the authority to suspend on the suspicion of cheating."  
  
"Not when the student who cheated is the university president's son," Phil sighed, surveying his study. "That's called my ass getting fired. Listen, Gil, she deserves it. She's bright and I'm sure she'll be a help. Maybe she can boost you guys up to the number one crime-solving unit in the States, huh?"  
  
"If she did that, I'd hire her," Grissom stated dryly.  
  
"Is everything working out? Is she getting transferred to your shift?"  
  
"I filed the paperwork half an hour ago."  
  
"Before consulting me? I didn't know you took leaps of faith."  
  
"Well, I trust you." He raised his head and witnessed Sara and Warrick walking through the hallway, carrying human dummies over their shoulders. "Phil, my crew has an inundation of cases. I need to go."  
  
"All right. Do me a favor and keep me posted on Emily? I'm afraid she won't take care of herself if she gets too caught up in this."  
  
Grissom closed his eyes. It sounded like he was receiving another Sara. He nodded and replied, "Sure, Phil. Get some sleep." He heard a chuckle and a click and he hung up as well. He looked down at her file again and sighed. "Okay, Emily, let's see what you're made out of."  
  
He picked up the file and walked into the hallway. He spotted a familiar figure at the far end and called out, "Catherine!"  
  
The petite woman turned her head and called back, "Where've you been?"  
  
"Doing business," he replied, holding up the file and approaching her.  
  
She nodded approvingly as he came to a standstill before her. "Paperwork?"  
  
"Not really. When you get a free moment, I need to discuss something with you."  
  
"Actually, I've got free time right now," she replied, beginning to walk towards the coroner's office. "What's up?"  
  
"We just got an intern."  
  
"An intern?" Catherine frowned. "Like from a college?" Grissom nodded. "Gil, interns are horrible! They're green and incompetent. They get sick at the sight of a dead body and they don't know a thing about forensics. All they know are chemical formulas. That's it. Remember the intern from three years ago? Rick? He practically jeopardized everyone's job and we weren't even on the same shift as him."  
  
Grissom smiled at her outburst. "Well, I have a feeling this one will be a little different. She didn't major in chemistry, but in forensics, although I'm sure she knows a few chemical formulas. Her name is Emily Reese and, right now, she's working under Ecklie. She just put in for a transfer and is coming to the night shift."  
  
"Oh, the pretty blonde girl? I thought she was new. Are you undermining Ecklie?"  
  
"No," Grissom stated, raising an eyebrow at her sinister tone. "She's a student of one of my colleagues from college. He wanted her to work with me and sent her here. I put in her transfer form a while ago. I wanted to ask you how you think the rest of the crew will react to this. I've talked to her and I think you two will be fine."  
  
Catherine settled onto the couch outside the coroner's office. Grissom sat beside her. "Okay. What is she like?"  
  
"Smart, polite, independent, nice… I don't know, I spent about five minutes with her."  
  
Catherine smiled. "Well, Nick and Warrick will probably adore her. I've seen Nick giving her a few looks whenever our shifts overlap. Greg-"  
  
"Greg isn't a part of the team, Catherine."  
  
"But he interacts with us as much as we interact with each other," she pointed out. "Greg will be beside himself. I think he's finally understanding that Sara isn't interested in him. And Sara…" She sighed. "I'm not sure. Do you think they'll get along?"  
  
"I was hoping you could tell me."  
  
"Sara does pride herself in being the youngest female CSI here. She holds the attention of all the men, she knows it, and I think she revels in it on some level. If Emily even appears to be taking Sara's place, I do think that she could get jealous." She shrugged. "Sara's the wild card."  
  
Catherine checked her watch and said, "I have to go check out that DB from yesterday. Thanks for the heads up, Gil." She patted his knee with her hand and disappeared into the morgue. Grissom stood and walked back in the direction of the crime lab to find his other CSIs. He was almost to the lab when a sharp voice interrupted him.  
  
"Gil!"  
  
Grissom sighed and turned around. "Good morning, Conrad. You're here awfully early."  
  
Ecklie stood in front of Grissom and hissed, "You stole my intern?"  
  
"She wanted to transfer to the nightshift," Grissom shrugged. "I merely signed off on it. Besides, as I understand, she was supposed to be assigned to my team in the first place. How did that not happen?"  
  
"She's not leaving my shift," Ecklie growled, avoiding the question.  
  
"I think she is," Grissom replied. "In fact, it should be in effect in twenty four hours. Don't mess with my CSIs, Conrad." With that, Grissom turned on his heel and headed into the lab.  
  
  
  
I hope you liked it. :) 


	3. First Impressions

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See the first chapter.  
  
Summary: An intern arrives at the crime lab and things get shaken up [at least, they will eventually :)]  
  
Feedback: If it floats your boat.  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER THREE: First Impressions  
  
Emily walked into the crime lab just before seven with a Barnie's plastic cup in her hand. It was Friday, the day that had promised two free days in the twenty odd years behind her. Now, all Friday meant was casual dress day. And besides that, she had found out that every day was casual dress day at the crime lab; jeans and t-shirts reigned on high for most of the lab technicians. She worked Monday through Saturday and Ecklie had pulled her in for a few hours on the Sunday before. She prayed that Grissom had pulled through for her.  
  
She didn't even stop in Layout Room One to receive her instructions for the day. Instead, she walked to Layout Room Three, where she had seen some of Grissom's crew the past few days. As she neared the glass-encased room, she saw Grissom standing with a strawberry-blonde woman, looking over some pictures on the table. Getting closer, she saw two men lying on the ground and a younger woman kneeling next to them. Grissom pointed to something on the table and the brunette nudged the men farther apart.  
  
Emily stood in the doorway of the room and knocked on the open glass door. The two women turned their heads. The two men on the ground looked upside down at her. The woman next to Grissom tapped his arm and he turned around. He offered a small smile and said, "Good morning, Emily."  
  
She replied softly, "Hi." She took a small step into the room. One of the guys on the floor, the one with ice coffee skin, pushed himself up so that he was propped up on his elbows. The younger woman eyed her suspiciously, not recognizing her as a witness on any of their cases.  
  
Catherine stepped forward and said, "Hi, I'm Catherine Willows." She shook Emily's hand and placed her left hand on the girl's arm, bringing her into the room.  
  
"Emily Reese," she replied.  
  
"I know. Gil told me about you," Catherine responded. She leaned against the table and said, "It'll be nice to have three women around here. Things will finally be evened out." Emily smiled and her eyes began to dance. Maybe Grissom had come through for her.  
  
The three younger CSIs on the far side of the room stood. Catherine looked over at them and said, "Guys, this is Emily Reese. She's our new intern."  
  
Emily's mouth formed a small 'o.' She touched Grissom's arm gently and asked quietly, "It went through?"  
  
He looked over at her and said, "I put in the forms about an hour ago. It should be in effect by tonight."  
  
A spectacular grin spread across the face. As the two younger men walked up to her with Sara trailing behind, she responded, "Thank you."  
  
"Hey, Emily. I'm Nick Stokes." Nick reached out and shook her head, offering her a casual smile. She smiled back and shook his hand. Catherine rolled her eyes at Grissom over Nick's suddenly thicker Southern drawl.  
  
"Warrick Brown." She shook his hand as well. She couldn't believe her luck in leaving Ecklie's shift. Las Vegas was getting better by the second.  
  
"Sara Sidle," the brunette said. Emily shook her hand too and thanked God for giving her a woman around the same age as her to work with. She was missing her friends from home and was hoping that maybe she had just found a new one.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw Ecklie talking to a few of his CSIs in the hallway. She winced and said, "It was nice to meet you all, but I have to go to work."  
  
Nick looked out into the hallway and spotted Ecklie. "Yeah, go before he starts breathing fire."  
  
She smiled and exited the room, easing past her future team. Nick and Warrick both turned their heads and followed her down the hall. Sara swatted their arms. Nick chuckled and put his arm around Sara's shoulders. "How come you don't wear that to work?"  
  
Sara turned her head and noticed Emily's outfit. She wore tight jeans and plum spaghetti strap shirt. She wore small wooden beads around her wrist, a brown belt, and brown cowboy boots. She frowned, "Because I'm not a teenager."  
  
Nick bumped her with his hip and said, "I was talking about the cowboy boots."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes and slipped away from him. "Let's get going on this scene, huh?" Catherine shared a split second glance with Grissom before looking back at their files.  
  
In the corridor, Emily approached Ecklie. He raised his eyes and saw from where she was coming. He smirked and said, "Do I need to remind you that you are not off of my shift yet?"  
  
Emily came to halt two steps before him and asked coolly, "What do you have for me to do today?"  
  
Ecklie passed her, his shoulder bumping her arm and spilling her coffee on the hem of her jeans and her boots. "This way."  
  
Around thirteen hours later, Emily remained in one of the tech offices. It was a large room with twelve desks in it. The lab technicians and CSIs who weren't department heads worked, usually, in these. There were two of them in the building and most of the employees, since they were usually in the labs, shared desks. Other than her hour break in which she had gone home, she had stayed at the desk all day, typing up field reports and case summaries. The day shift workers were filing out. The night shift had come in an hour before.  
  
There was a sharp rap on the door. Emily raised her head. Ecklie stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. He asked, "How's it coming along?"  
  
Emily nodded and said, "Almost done."  
  
Ecklie entered the room, which was empty save for he and Emily. He leaned against the desk she worked at and asked, "Why did you transfer?"  
  
Emily sighed. She had avoided him all day and had hoped she would never have to hear the question. She kept her focus on the task before her and said, "My professor wanted me to work with Mr. Grissom. He felt that way for a reason and I decided to take matters into my own hands."  
  
Ecklie's hand left his pocket and gently rested on one of hers. "And what nice hands they are." Emily's fingers froze. She bit the inside of her lower lip and refused to look up at him. He leaned over and, with his other hand, traced a path from her wrist to her shoulder. "I thought we were getting along well, Emily," he said menacingly.  
  
She shuddered as his hand found its way to her neck. She clenched her jaw as he hissed in her ear. "I can get you back on this shift in an instant. Don't you think you've gotten away." His hand tightened on the back of her neck. She opened her mouth in pain and stood up sharply. Ecklie kept his grip on her hand, though, and held her in place.  
  
"Oh!"  
  
Both Ecklie and Emily turned toward the door. Greg Sanders stood there with a surprised look on his face. He chuckled and said, "Sorry, I thought no one was in here. I'll go-"  
  
"No!" Emily interrupted. "It's all right, come on in. He was just leaving." She shot Ecklie a look, one Greg caught. Emily pulled her arm away from him and rotated her wrist. Ecklie scowled at her and quickly departed from the room.  
  
Emily slowly sat down again. Greg said, "Really, I'm sorry about… interrupting, I guess."  
  
She chuckled and looked up at him. "No, it's okay. I'm glad you showed up. I'm Emily."  
  
"Oh, you're the new intern on the night shift." She raised her eyebrows and he smiled. "I'm the unofficial techie for Grissom's crew. I heard about you. I'm Greg." He walked up to her desk and said, "So, Ecklie's mad about you flying the coop?"  
  
She chuckled and shrugged. "Something like that." She pursed her lips and looked up at him. "Is Grissom anything like Ecklie?"  
  
Greg laughed out loud and sat down in the chair next to her. "Oh, God, no." He pulled the chair closer to her desk and leaned forward to rest his elbows above his knees. "He's complicated. He's aggravating and he'll push you to your limit. But he cares. You can tell when you look at him. He's a person with a good heart who just wants all of us to try our hardest. Now, Ecklie, on the other hand, is a jackass without a soul."  
  
Emily laughed and found a tear escaping her eye. She wiped at it and looked out the open door. "That's very true."  
  
Greg hesitated. He bowed his head before speaking. "When I walked in, was he… did you… I mean…" He chuckled nervously. He blew out a breath and motioned to her wrist. He queried, "Did he hurt-"  
  
She reached out and touched his hand with her fingertips. "Thank you for coming by." Her meaningful look said enough. He nodded shortly and looked back at her wrist. There were four distinct red marks on it. He frowned.  
  
"Has he ever done that before?"  
  
Emily shook her head. "He never touched me before today."  
  
Greg sat silently, his eyes transfixed on her delicate arm. She wasn't at all a petite girl. She looked to be quite tall actually, and rather strong. But her wrist seemed suddenly frail with the telltale signs of a strong, unwanted grip. He bobbed his head once more and cleared his throat. Courage seized him. "I have to go back to the lab. Come with me, take a break from this."  
  
She looked at her computer and sighed. "I really need to get this done. It'll take about ten minutes. Then I'll take a break."  
  
He nodded and smiled. He stood and pushed the chair back to its desk. "All right, well, you better be in the lab."  
  
She smiled at his retreating form. She managed to focus again on the information before her. Thirteen minutes later, she saved all the information and sent it to Ecklie's account. She shut the computer down and stood. She stretched and grabbed the files. She first stopped at Ecklie's office and quickly deposited the paper on his desk before he could show up. She then walked to the DNA lab.  
  
Greg was leaning into a microscope, adjusting the knobs on the side. Across the table from him, Grissom was flipping through some results. Emily entered. Grissom looked up and said, "Emily, Brass just informed me that you are officially on the night shift."  
  
She smiled and stood between the two men. "That's great."  
  
"A subdued reaction compared to the past day," he noted dryly. "Anything happen to change your mind?"  
  
Greg looked up from his findings momentarily. He swallowed and looked back down. Emily shook her head. "I'm just tired."  
  
Grissom looked at his watch. 9:47 p.m. He handed her a piece of paper. "This is your rough schedule." She picked it up as he spoke. "Seven p.m. to seven a.m. I don't expect you to put in overtime at the beginning because you're an intern. Towards the end, I presume that your hours will become more flexible than that. Monday to Saturday, Sundays off unless we have a dire emergency. Every week, you'll have another day off besides Sunday. You'll find out what day every Monday. For right now, go home. You start tomorrow night."  
  
Emily frowned. "You sure?"  
  
"Absolutely. Have you finished all the work Ecklie assigned you today? Okay, then. We'll get you started on a case tomorrow."  
  
"Wait, what?" she frowned. "A case?"  
  
"You said other interns are observing the evidence collection and processing, correct? Well, then, you should, too. But you need to be rested." Grissom looked back down at the paper before him, ending the conversation.  
  
Emily nodded slowly. Greg lifted his head and smiled at her. "Okay. Thanks, Mr. Grissom. Bye-"  
  
"Emily, it's Grissom." Grissom spoke, never lifting his eyes. "Formalities are wasted here."  
  
She scrunched her nose at Greg and said, "Okay. Bye, Grissom." She detected a small smirk from his lowered lips. She put her hands in her pockets and said, "See ya later, Greg, and thanks. We'll do break time later." She offered him a sweet smile and exited the room. Greg smiled back and watched her leave.  
  
Grissom frowned at Greg. "Thank you?"  
  
Greg's head flipped back around. He nodded and cleared his throat. "Oh yeah. We're tight."  
  
  
  
I hope you liked it :) 


	4. Tougher

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, I know Grissom's birthday isn't in January but just pretend it is. There's bound to be a bazillion of mistakes just because my brain is fried from keeping track of ten little camp-goers all day, so I'm sorry!  
  
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and terrific suggestions/corrections (and I promise I'll try to revise some of the mistakes at a later date). This is my first CSI fic that I'm actually "publishing" and no one has edited it or reviewed it, so if the characters get a little out of character, my deepest apologies.  
  
Feedback: Wouldn't hurt. :)  
  
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: Tougher  
  
Emily drove the now familiar route to the crime lab with a smile. She had spent the majority of the past day and night sleeping. She hadn't realized how out of whack her body had been. Now, with fifteen hours of sleep under her belt, she felt new. Her Golden Retriever puppy had required three runs and a bath. She had gone grocery shopping. She had cleaned her apartment. She had soaked in a bath. She was ready for a crime scene.  
  
She arrived at the police department and paused in her car for a moment. She saw Ecklie two rows and seven cars over, fumbling with his keys. She grinned. She didn't care what he said; she would never work with him again.  
  
Once inside, she found Catherine and Sara in the break room. She entered shyly. Catherine looked over and smiled. "Hey, Emily."  
  
"Hey," she replied, looking at both of them. "What's going on?"  
  
Sara had seen Emily approaching the break room. She didn't want to like her. It wasn't that Emily rubbed her the wrong way or anything, she just had a certain feeling deep inside that nothing good could come out of this new condition. Emily appeared to have won over Grissom already. Catherine was warming up to her as well. Yesterday, she had overheard Nick, Warrick, and Greg talking about her. She had overheard them talking about her, even Catherine, plenty of times. It was sophomoric, she knew, but she was slightly jealous of the attention the new blonde was getting. She forced a smile and replied, "We were just talking about Grissom's birthday."  
  
"Is it coming up?"  
  
"Two weeks," she said. "We're trying to decide if we should all get separate gifts or all chip in for something."  
  
"Maybe we should throw him a party at work," Catherine suggested with a glint in her eye. "We could embarrass the shit out of him." She laughed at Sara's pointed look and said, "He'd have our heads on a platter."  
  
"Hey, speaking of heads, did you hear what Nick did to Greg?"  
  
Emily continued to listen to their playful banter. An ache developed inside of her. She wanted to be a part of their team, their clique. She wanted to belong to a group of such diverse and yet compatible people. She wanted to join in on the light topics, planning birthdays and gossiping, and help with the dark matters, solving crimes and getting through the webs people weave with their stories.  
  
Nick stuck his head inside the break room and said, "Let's go, ladies." He flashed Emily a grin and waited at the door to walk her to the layout room. Catherine and Sara continued to joke and Nick asked Emily questions about where she was from.  
  
As they walked into Layout Room 2, Catherine said, "Hey, Nicky, I hear you tortured Greg."  
  
"Who me?" he grinned. "Couldn't be." He, Catherine, and Emily all sat down.  
  
Sara laughed and took a seat at the table. "I saw him when I got here. His hair is a lot shorter, Nick."  
  
"I didn't do it that short. He went out today and got it touched up a little. The kid was asleep; I'm not that mean."  
  
"Yeah, you just took a big chunk out the back," Warrick stated upon entering the room.  
  
"Don't forget the ones on the sides."  
  
Catherine shook her head. "You're one of his best friends-"  
  
"And play pranks on each other we shall," Nick stated as he grinned like a fool.  
  
"All right, it's work time," Grissom said, walking into the layout room. "No more of this Nick playing tricks on Greg talk. I hope you all enjoyed your mandatory twelve hours off because we have two new cases."  
  
"On top of the other three." Sara ventured warily, hoping she was wrong.  
  
"Correct," Grissom said. "Sara, Catherine, Warrick. There is an unidentified 420 waiting for you at the MGM Grand."  
  
"Cause of death?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Strangulation."  
  
"With?"  
  
Grissom smiled at Catherine. "If you find it, share it." Catherine rolled her eyes and took the piece of paper. He continued, "Nick, Emily, you're with me. Reported breaking and entering with two DBs in Orange Grove. That's as much as I got. Let's go."  
  
Grissom, Nick, and Emily arrived at their crime scene fifteen minutes later. Nick pulled his silver case from the back of the Tahoe, as did Grissom, and surveyed the scene. A few spectators were standing on the streets. The house and yard was roped off with yellow police tape. Detective Jim Brass stood on the sidewalk between their house, 3621 Blossom Lane, and the next house, 3625 Blossom Lane. He was speaking to an elderly woman who was clutching her robe about her.  
  
Grissom turned to Emily and handed her two white gloves. "Don't touch anything, but wear these just in case. Just observe, got it? Don't move anything around." She nodded and followed the two men up the front walk. They entered the house and quickly made their way to the back where the family room was. It was there that they saw the broken window and the two dead bodies.  
  
Nick said. "Sometimes I wonder if people should just stay in a locked room when they're being robbed and not try to save their belongings."  
  
"That would go against human nature to protect yourself and your family," Grissom said. "And your materialistic belongings." Grissom noticed a framed picture on the mantel. "They had daughters."  
  
"I think I found one of them," Emily said softly. Grissom turned his head and frowned. She pointed with a gloved finger to the hall closet to their left. A pool of blood was seeping out. Grissom approached the closet and flicked the light switch on the wall. He opened the door slightly. He peered inside and sighed. He looked up at his two companions and said, "You found both of them."  
  
About half an hour later, Emily said, "Okay, so let me get this straight. Whoever breaks in through the window. Whoever then proceeds to kill four people but only hides two of them. Whoever bolts. Why hide two bodies?"  
  
Nick, who was kneeling beside the dead body by the fireplace, shrugged. He asked, "Why would 'Whoever' stab two and shoot two?"  
  
Grissom replied, "Some killers like variety, Nick." He surveyed the area around the window and motioned to Emily. "Emily, come over here." She approached him and he asked, "Have you ever taken a picture before?" She gave him a pointed look and took the camera from him. He pointed and said, "All the surrounding carpet and the window sill."  
  
"You already took those pictures, Griss," Nick pointed out. He moved to dust fingerprints off the hearth.  
  
"And I still have pictures that need to be taken. Emily needs to practice," he replied, returning to the bodies in the closet.  
  
The three worked diligently, Emily observing and snapping pictures whenever told, Nick dusting and collecting, Grissom directing and collecting. After a quick briefing from Brass, they headed back to the crime lab. As Emily delivered bags of evidence to trace and DNA, Nick spoke softly with Grissom.  
  
"She didn't flinch once."  
  
"I noticed," Grissom nodded.  
  
"I thought she was going to throw up," Nick confessed.  
  
Grissom and Nick entered the layout room. Grissom gathered the film and remarked, "I have a feeling, Nick, that Emily is tougher than she seems."  
  
Emily entered Greg's lab and saw him checking out his reflection in the window. She smiled and said, "It's not that bad, you know."  
  
He turned around quickly and blushed. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Please, I saw you checking yourself out." She rested the bags on the counter top and said, "Really, it looks fine."  
  
"You heard."  
  
"I think everyone heard," she confessed apologetically.  
  
Greg groaned and nodded to the bags. "Orange Grove case?"  
  
"Uh-huh." She handed over some of the small yellow packets and said, "Grissom told me to tell you to rush it."  
  
"Well, you tell him that I told you I can't make the machine go any faster than the company made it," Greg grinned. "Come back in an hour and I'll see if any magic happened."  
  
She paused at the door and commented, "It looks good."  
  
Greg met her eyes and nodded slowly. "Thanks." He watched her depart and he got to work. It was definitely a plus to have Emily around. She wasn't too bad to look at, first of all, and she had potential to be a beneficial part of the team.  
  
But she was still a girl, a child really, compared to the rest of them. She was ten years younger than Nick, Warrick, and Sara. He wasn't sure how old Catherine was, but he was assuming Catherine was fifteen to eighteen years older than her. Grissom, he knew, had found a student in Emily. Sara would always be his protégée, but she was beginning to come out from under Grissom's wing, leaving a place for someone new.  
  
  
  
Please tell me if you liked it or not :) 


	5. Realizations

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Author's Notes: I know nothing about spiders and I chose black widows just because I think they're mean; so everything you read about spiders in this chapter (or story, for that matter) could very possibly be untrue. :)  
  
I realize that some of this may be a teeny bit out of character but let's just stretch our minds: how do we know it's out of character if they've never been in a situation in which they could react like this? I don't know what I just said but I'm trying to justify what I have written. :)  
  
Feedback: Highly appreciated.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: Realizations  
  
Grissom sat in his office, on his break, feeding two black widow spiders. They climbed on top of each other, clawing for the bugs Grissom offered them. When he finished, he closed the case and sat back in his chair, watching them. They retreated to different corners of the cage and waited. What they were waiting for, he didn't know.  
  
Sara entered his office at that moment without knocking. She closed the door and sat in one of the chairs facing him. He looked at her with an expecting expression. She didn't look at him but focused on the spiders. After a few seconds, she asked, "Are you busy?"  
  
"Yes." He replied promptly and matter-of-factly, just to see what her response would be.  
  
"Good." She pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. She nodded at the spiders and asked, "What are they doing?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I think they're just feeling each other out," Grissom confessed.  
  
"Don't they kill when they get pissed off?" she asked, her brow furrowed.  
  
He smiled faintly. "Yes. Females are especially aggressive."  
  
"Are they females?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She continued to stare at the spiders. She leaned against her legs so that her nose rested atop her knees. It was two minutes before she spoke. "I know what you're doing, Gil."  
  
His eyes widened. In all the years he had known Sara, never had she once called him Gil. His name had evolved with her, that was certain, but never had it surpassed 'Griss.' He struggled to find words. "Ah, what am I doing?"  
  
She lifted her head and put her chin on her left knee. "You're comparing the two spiders to Emily and I." Her eyes flickered over to his then. His confused eyes met her. "I know you, so don't deny it. You're comparing the similarities and trying to figure out the differences." She sighed and said, "You should stop trying."  
  
He frowned. Maybe, on some subconscious level, he had been doing what she suggested. Looking at the black widows now, it was obvious that the comparison was true. He hadn't seen Sara make an effort to befriend Emily and Emily wasn't too forthcoming in her own right. He asked softly, "What made you think of it?"  
  
"Nothing else has happened around here that would have you thinking." Sara sat tall in her chair but kept her arms wrapped around her legs. She asked, "Are you okay?"  
  
Grissom sent her a look. He commented, "Ambiguous."  
  
"Answer the damned question."  
  
"Clarify." He stood then and picked up the cage. He put it back on one of the shelves of the bookcase behind his desk. "Am I okay about what?"  
  
"Sit over here," she demanded softly. He hesitated at the bookcase before walking to the chair next to her. He sat down and she turned to face him. "You've been distant toward me and I want to know if everything's all right." He didn't respond and Sara sighed. She dragged her hand through her hair and asked, "Are you trying to replace me?"  
  
Grissom's eyes widened. He swore Sara could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed the inquiry. He finally managed, "Why would I be trying to replace you?"  
  
"Don't exercise any more of that repeating psychology shit with me," Sara frowned. "Answer the question."  
  
"I don't understand what you want me to say."  
  
"I want you to say the truth. Are you trying to replace me?"  
  
"With Emily? Sara, she's an intern, not a CSI. She can't replace you."  
  
"Not as a CSI, Gil," Sara's tone changed from defiant to troubled. "Are you trying to replace what I used to be with her?"  
  
"'What you used to be?'" Grissom frowned. Her eyes darkened. "I'm sorry, Sara, I'm trying to understand what you mean but you're being rather vague." Sara turned her head away and Grissom faced her profile. As he observed her taught jaw, her frequent blinking, and the rapid rise then fall of her chest, he knew that she was fighting tears. He became uncomfortable and extremely concerned in the same instant. He leaned forward slightly and asked, "Sara? What's wrong?"  
  
It took another minute before she responded in a rush of words and emotion. "I used to be your student and now that I'm not relying on you as much you found someone else when I don't think I should be replaced!" The last part of her claim was clipped with a slight sob and she looked up at the ceiling. "God," she moaned, laying a hand on her throat, tears slipping down her face.  
  
Grissom scooted his chair closer to hers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How long have you felt like this?" She shrugged and Grissom groaned inwardly. She had just laid her greatest problem on him and she was reverting to a sullen teenager. He waited.  
  
Finally, "I guess I've been… distancing myself from you for a month or two now." She sighed, wiped away a tear, and continued, "It wasn't intentional; maybe it was just the natural progression of things. But I didn't understand what I had done until Emily showed up." She directed her gaze on him and said rather coolly, "We could all tell you were pleased. You received a new student who is just dying to learn everything she possibly can. I just never expected someone to take my place."  
  
Grissom spoke soothingly. "Sara, no one's taking your place. You're Sara. No one can ever fill your shoes, not in my eyes." Sara rolled her eyes and looked away. He gripped her hand and said, "Listen to me. You've been my student. You are my colleague. Maybe things need to change between us."  
  
"What?"  
  
He didn't mistake the disbelief, almost fear, in her voice. He nodded and hesitantly addressed what he had been thinking for a long while. "I enjoyed you being my student, Sara, but you know what you're doing now. I'll be here to assist you whenever you need my aid. It's time that we progress further."  
  
Sara turned to him and sniffled. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"We," he said, pointing to her and then himself, "need to change."  
  
She frowned at him and waited a few moments. She stared him straight in the eye and exclaimed, "Are you asking me out?"  
  
Grissom gave a faint smile and squeezed her hand. He stood and said, "Break's over, Sara."  
  
She glanced at the clock behind her and said, "I have another twenty minutes. What are you talking about?" He sat behind his desk and opened his Laptop. He focused on the computer screen. Sara wiped away her tears and waved her hands in front of her face.  
  
Grissom looked up and said, "You look fine, Sara."  
  
She gave him a look and said, "You made me cry and then you're leaving the situation unresolved."  
  
"I didn't make you cry," he pointed out. "You cried on your own accord." He returned to his work and said, "You shouldn't cry, Sara. You have a better smile."  
  
She stared at him for a moment. She stood slowly and shoved her hands in her pockets. When he declined to speak, she turned on her heel and walked out of the office. She continued down the corridors until she made it to the locker room. She sat on the bench in front of her locker and thought.  
  
"You know, Sara, it's pretty hard to get mad at a locker."  
  
She jerked her head up and saw Warrick standing a few feet away from her. "Hey," she said softly. "How long have you been standing there?"  
  
"Less than a minute." He sat next to her and asked, "Wanna share?"  
  
She shook her head. "There's nothing to share. I don't know what's going on."  
  
He leaned against her and said, "Well, let me tell you something." He bowed his head and whispered conspiratorially, "You've got nothing to worry about." He looked over at her and smiled. "Really."  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I think you do," he objected. "And I think you don't realize what you mean to him." He stood and said, "But, hey, if you don't trust the guy and think that some twenty year old is gonna steal him away… Fine by me." She looked up at him and he winked at her. "Stop scowling at the locker, Sara."  
  
She smiled as he left the room. She rolled her neck around a few times to release the kinks and stood. She checked her watch. 3:02 a.m. She started towards the break room to grab a quick snack. She pushed on the locker room door and it wouldn't budge. She pushed again and frowned. She dropped her hands and the door swung in at her to reveal Grissom. He looked at her, surprised. She smiled and said, "I was pushing and you were pushing…"  
  
"The fundamentals of physics," he smiled back. He cleared his throat and said, "You have tomorrow night off, correct?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yes. Why?"  
  
"If you're free, I would like you to come over to my house for dinner."  
  
"Seven good?"  
  
"Seven's perfect."  
  
She grinned and slipped past him. He smiled too and proceeded to his locker.  
  
  
  
Please tell me if you liked it or not :)  
  
I've had Chapters 1-5 done for two weeks and now I have nothing but a blank computer screen so it may take a while for an update. 


	6. Selfish

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Author's Notes: Good things come to those who wait. No, I'm just kidding. :) Sorry this has taken SO long. I'll try not to wait this long next time. Thank you so much for all the reviews! If you do not like certain aspects of my story, please explain why!  
  
Feedback: Please!  
  
  
  
Chapter Six: Selfish  
  
The night shift was winding down at 6:07 a.m. Sara and Catherine were in a layout room, finding their way through the endless DNA results they had received. Warrick had gone back to the MGM Grand to seek out one vacationer who had heard something, anything coming from Room 6823.  
  
Nick was in one of the interrogation rooms with Brass, sitting with two friends of the murdered sisters. Grissom and Emily sat in the room next to it and observed the scene before them through a two-way mirror. The two teens, having been awakened by their parents with grave news, looked frightened and shocked. Nick calmly explained to the girls that they needed information on any people who may have had ill intentions toward seventeen-year-old Jane Walker and sixteen-year-old Christine Walker.  
  
The girl on the right, Rachel, shook her head. "People liked them okay."  
  
"'Okay?'" Brass frowned.  
  
"They weren't everyone's favorite people," the other girl, Gabby, explained. "No one is liked by everyone. That's not real life. They had attitudes."  
  
"They were normal teenagers," Nick sighed. The two girls nodded in concurrence. He attempted another path. "Were there any nasty break-ups with the girls and old boyfriends?"  
  
Gabby said, "Chris had never had a boyfriend. Jane was dating Bobby Thomas." She frowned. "Poor Bobby."  
  
Brass asked, "Did they get along? Were there any arguments or any kind?"  
  
"They rarely fought," Rachel answered. Her eyes dipped a moment before she continued. "But Jane told me that she had been thinking a lot about breaking up with him. She liked another boy, David McCreary."  
  
Nick asked, "Did Bobby find out about that?"  
  
"He couldn't have," Rachel stated. "Janie didn't want him to hear any rumors about it so she just told me. She didn't even tell Gabby."  
  
On the other side of the wall, Grissom asked Emily, "So now what?"  
  
"Now we go find Bobby Thomas," Emily smiled. The two left the room and stood outside the interrogation room. Nick saw them and excused himself. He walked out and joined them.  
  
"Bobby Thomas has a motive," Nick stated firmly. "Let's go."  
  
They were almost out the building when Grissom was paged. He looked down and said, "Coroner's office first."  
  
In the autopsy room, Al Robbins stood over his "operating" table grimly, overlooking Jane and Christine Walker. Nick and Emily stood opposite him and Grissom stood at the girls' heads. Emily stared down at the sheet-covered bodies. The sisters shared the same features: their noses were slightly up-turned, their lips were Cupid's bows, their eyebrows had the same arch, their cheekbones were highlighted, their chins were delicate, and their dusty red hair was wavy. An ache rested deep inside of her.  
  
Robbins cleared his throat and said, "You have a killer who was definitely aggravated." He tugged on Jane's sheet a little to reveal the area around her clavicle. It was marred with four heavy contusions and a slice that all four knew penetrated down into her heart. "Before her death, she was beat with a blunt, heavy object seven times. The other three marks are on her back."  
  
He nodded to the other girl. "As you know, she was stabbed twice just above the navel, a third time in the right calf, and the final stabbing was to the heart, just like the other sister. No beating."  
  
Nick asked, "Why would the stabbings range so much in area?" The question was greeted with silence.  
  
Robbins continued, "Well, the parents were shot at point blank range. There's GSR on the father's T-shirt and the mother's nightgown. All bodies have the same temperature; I can't tell you who died first. All I can say is that it's safe to assume that the girls died together, as did the parents."  
  
"Well, that makes Bobby Thomas' story all the more meaningful," Grissom sighed. As the three investigators headed back out to the parking lot, Grissom ordered, "Nick and Emily, you go find Bobby. I'm going back to the crime scene."  
  
They parted ways outside and Emily dictated directions to Nick in the vehicle. Nick glanced over at her pensive expression and asked, "How's it going?"  
  
She turned her head and frowned. "Hmm?"  
  
He asked, "The case. How're you handling it?" He waited in a left hand turn lane, the blinker on.  
  
She replied, "Oh. Uh, it's okay. It's sad." She looked out the passenger window and said, "I want to know who killed those girls."  
  
"The victims." She looked at Nick again and he repeated the two words as he turned onto State Road 434. "The victims. They're not girls, Emily, they can't be. Not to you, not to me. They're not sisters or teenagers. They're victims."  
  
She reflected on his words before saying, "Victims make them sound worse. Take a right at the light." She continued to give directions until they came to a stop outside 1293 Manchester Lane. With the sun rising in the east, house lights were on all down the street. The two CSIs descended from the Tahoe and walked to the front door.  
  
Emily rang the doorbell and they waited patiently. The door opened to reveal a harried-looking man with thinning gray hair and a slight gut. He wore a white undershirt and charcoal slacks and black gold-toed socks. "Can I help you?" he grumbled.  
  
Nick showed his ID and said, "Good morning, sir, I'm Nick Stokes and this is Emily Reese. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Are you the father of Bobby Thomas?"  
  
The man's eyes narrowed. "What'd he do?"  
  
"Nothing, yet, sir," Nick replied. "We'd just like to ask him a few questions. Is he here?"  
  
The man hesitated. "You all cops?"  
  
"No, sir, but if you'd like, we can get some over here," Nick retorted, his eyes just as strong as his opponent.  
  
The man allowed them to enter his home. He pointed to the left and said, "First door on your left is his room. I can't guarantee you he's home or nothing." He walked into the tiny kitchen with yellow linoleum floor to the right of them. Nick and Emily stood in front of Bobby's closed bedroom door and knocked.  
  
There was no answer and Nick slowly opened the door. The curtains were closed and no lights were on. The single window was open, rustling the plastic shades. The walls had been painted white years before and the color was dull. No posters or pictures hung from the walls. The only furniture was a bed with blue sheets and a dresser. Clothes, dirty and clean, lay scattered on the floor. A basketball and two footballs, scattered textbooks, and plates of half-eaten food also joined the clutter. The closet doors were open to reveal a sparse wardrobe consisting of jeans and T-shirts.  
  
Pressed against the wall by the twin bed was the body of Bobby Thomas. He was alive but he looked dead. He was slouching and his legs were straight out in front of him. He wore a white shirt and faded jeans and tennis shoes. His hands, blood-caked, were resting on his lap. Lying next to him was a kitchen knife coated with blood. His blank eyes stared straight ahead, right at the door, right at Nick and Emily.  
  
Nick reached for his phone and dialed Brass' number. After he requested some cops at the Thomas Residence, Emily whispered, "It's just that easy."  
  
"Occasionally."  
  
She frowned at the teenage boy and said, "It's just that sad."  
  
The parents, the gruff father and the hysterical mother, were dealt with by Brass. Two cops dragged Bobby Thomas to the squad car. He remained estranged. Emily and Nick followed the cops back to the police department and waited for Grissom outside of the interrogation room.  
  
The older investigator showed up and asked, "He was at home?"  
  
"Coated in blood," Nick sighed. "Most likely Jane's. Greg's checking up on it." He nodded at the door. "We're waiting for you, boss."  
  
Emily sat at the table next to Grissom. Nick stood behind them, along with Brass, and Bobby sat facing them. Nick handled the questioning. Bobby ashamedly confessed to the murder of the Walker family. He kept his eyes trained on the table before him. Emily stared at him, as did the three other law enforcers, and she tried to imagine what could possess him to kill four people.  
  
Brass asked, "How 'bout you tell us why you killed them?"  
  
Bobby rubbed his forehead and muttered the story. "Janie and I got in a fight last night. Her dad kicked me out of the house because we were yelling so much. I came back later-"  
  
"When?" Grissom prodded.  
  
"I don't know. Two o'clock, maybe?" Bobby frowned. He bowed his head and said, "I busted in through the window in the family room. Janie and her little sister were watching movies. I just. snapped." He stated his condition so simply. Emily narrowed her eyes. Grissom's eyes flickered over to her for just a moment and then focused on the perpetrator again. "I grabbed a knife from the kitchen-"  
  
"Where in the kitchen?" Brass asked.  
  
"The cabinet in the island. They had old knives there."  
  
"How did you know that?" Nick frowned, wondering if the murders had been premeditated.  
  
"I cooked dinner there a few times," Bobby replied. He continued on with the details and wiped just below his eyes. His voice became choked as he said, "Chris just sat on the couch. She was real quiet. Jane was trying to get me to leave. I got so angry, I just. stabbed her. She just looked at me and I started hitting her."  
  
"With?"  
  
"My hands," he frowned. He glanced down at the crimson reminder. "I kept hitting her. I looked up and saw her sister trying to leave. I reached over and." He closed his eyes. "I stabbed her leg. I dragged her down and kept on going until I knew she was dead. I just didn't want her to get to her parents. I put them in the closet and wiped up the blood. I was trying to crawl out the window when I knocked over a lap. I heard her parents walking around upstairs. I wanted to leave but. I knew Mr. Walker would find me." Bobby wiped his eyes again and said, "I hid. When he came downstairs, I jumped him. I grabbed his gun and shot him. Mrs. Walker came downstairs and." He closed his eyes and said, "That's it. I ran."  
  
"You ran home but didn't try to hide your crime," Grissom stated.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Bobby whimpered. "I loved her. I really did. I didn't want anyone else to have her."  
  
Emily sighed and leaned back in her chair. Grissom nodded at Brass and the officers escorted Bobby out of the room. Grissom turned to Emily and said, "Most cases aren't finished in a twenty-four hour timeframe."  
  
She nodded and asked, "Is that all?"  
  
"We have paperwork."  
  
She stood and forced a smile. "I'm a champion at that." She exited the room and walked to the locker room. She grabbed her coat and her purse and left the building. As she neared her car and passed other law enforcement workers, she tried desperately to remain composed. Once in her car, however, she let the tears flow.  
  
The filler chapter had to go somewhere! Next chapter will be much better, I promise. 


	7. Intentions

Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Billy Joel and all his wonderful creations don't belong to me either.  
  
Author's Notes: I've decided to take some liberation with Grissom and Sara's past. Hope you don't mind.  
  
Feedback: I would like some very much, please. :)  
  
Spoilers: There is a very slight one but I don't know the episode name. Sorry.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN: Intentions  
  
At 6:26, Sara was ready to leave. She shuffled her feet at her bar and chewed on her lip. She didn't have to leave for another ten minutes if she wanted to be early, fifteen if she wanted to be on time. She walked back into her bathroom and frowned at her reflection. She wore a crimson skirt that ended just above her knees and a fitted black halter-top. She wore black slides on her feet and a black beaded bracelet. She was simple yet breathtaking. She just hoped Grissom saw her that way.  
  
She sat in the kitchen, tapped her fingernails rapidly on the counter, applied some more perfume and deodorant, put Nivea lotion on her legs, watched the clock for two minutes, double checked her purse, thought about putting on another bracelet, considered taking the single bracelet off, stared at her toe nail polish, grabbed her black coat and put it on, watched the clock for another minute, took the coat off, picked up her purse and keys, tapped her foot on the ground in front of the clock for another minute, put the coat on again, and finally headed for the door.  
  
She started her car and waited for the heater to kick in. When the vehicle was sufficiently warm, she began the drive to Grissom's house. 6:38. If I don't speed at all, she thought, I can be there right on time. Nevertheless, she found herself surpassing the speed limit on every road. Why am I in such a rush to get to Grissom's? What am I hoping to find there?  
  
Sara allowed her thoughts to wander as she drove. The closer she got to his home, though, the more she began to wonder what her intentions for the night were. She told herself all she really wanted was to see Grissom outside of work, relaxed, in a peaceful situation. She wanted a stimulating conversation, enjoyable company, and decent food, although that was at the very bottom of the list. Who knows? If the night turns out good, maybe we'll wind up in bed. That wouldn't be so bad. She frowned at the windshield. If that was what she was thinking, what the hell was he thinking?  
  
At 6:53, she pulled into his driveway. The outside lights were on and a warm glow came from inside. His home looked absolutely inviting. She turned off the car and slowly walked up to the front door. This is it, she thought. This night can forever change us. "Us?" she frowned, knocking on the door.  
  
The door opened and a small smile crept onto her lips. He looked good. He wore khaki pants and a black sweater. He smiled at her and said, "Come on in, Sara."  
  
She stepped inside and he took her coat. He glanced down at her bare back and noted, "You look very nice tonight."  
  
She couldn't resist. She allowed her eyes to look him up and down and said, "You do, too."  
  
Grissom froze at her blatant flirting. He hung her coat on the coat rack next to the door and asked, "Would you like some wine?"  
  
"Sure." She followed him into the kitchen and smiled. He didn't have a dining room but he had made do in the kitchen. The lights were dimmed and several small candles lay among the countertops. There were two tall, white candles on the table. There were two place settings. A bottle of wine rested atop the table. The scent of good cooking dispersed throughout the house. Faint music played in the background.  
  
Sara watched him pour two glasses of the red wine and gladly accepted the glass. She leaned against the kitchen counter and asked, "So, what smells so good?"  
  
"Lasagna," he replied, glancing at the oven timer. Four minutes left. She frowned and began to open her mouth when he continued, "Meatless." He turned his head to look at her and she grinned.  
  
"Thank you for remembering."  
  
"Well, I recall the consequences of not remembering from last time." He tilted his head and asked, "Would you have really left?"  
  
Sara winked at him and took her drink into the den. She called over her shoulder, "Billy Joel?"  
  
Grissom specified, "'She's Got A Way.'" Sara nodded and stood before the stereo system. She bent over slightly to pick up the CD case. Grissom watched her from twenty feet away. She stood tall and elegant. She held the wineglass in her left hand and the case in her right. For the first time in a long time, Grissom inspected her physique. Her shoulders were strong, her arms were toned, her waist dipped in but it wasn't too small, her hips were nice, her legs were thin. Her back was smooth and he could see the muscles ripple when she placed the CD case back down. She turned on her heel and Grissom's eyes rose to her face. Sara was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt. He had felt that way for seven years and there was no changing it now. She wasn't pretty in a classic or even exotic way. She was pretty in a Sara way. She approached him and he could detect a small twinkle in her eye.  
  
"Are you checking me out, Griss?" He smiled in reply. She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "I didn't want to leave, you know. I had come to Las Vegas because of you. I didn't want to leave because of you."  
  
Grissom frowned. "I never want to be the cause of you leaving."  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow. She reached for his hand and said, "I left Harvard because of you."  
  
"No. You graduated." "True," she grinned. "But I had thought about staying to get my doctorate. I left then to go to San Francisco to be with you." She emphasized the last four words and nodded shortly. "Why do you think I applied to work in 'Cisco? The scenery?"  
  
"Educational purposes," he grinned, referring to their teacher/student relationship gone awry.  
  
She squeezed his hand and released it. "No, although I did learn a lot." She smiled faintly. "We haven't talked about this in a long time, huh?"  
  
He leaned against the counter and said, "We agreed not to."  
  
"Yes, but it's a good story." She moved to sit on the coffee table. She crossed her legs and smiled when his eyes followed their movement. She leaned forward and asked, "Why did we decide to ignore everything?"  
  
"'Everything?'"  
  
"I thought I said not to do all that repeating shit with me." He smiled and she rolled her eyes. "You know, everything. We were getting kind of close there, you realize, in 'Cisco."  
  
"Isn't that why we decided to ignore everything?"  
  
"I guess." She looked away. "I regret it sometimes."  
  
"I know you do."  
  
"Do you?" Sara's eyes darted back to his. He hesitated and she pressed, "When you feel yourself getting older by the minute and you just wish you could go back in time and change one thing. Don't you wish we hadn't thought logically? Don't you wish we could have followed our hearts?" Grissom stood silently and struggled for words. The oven buzzer sounded off. He made no moves to silence it. Sara stood and walked for the kitchen. As she passed him, she rested her hand on his arm and whispered, "We didn't even have sex before we called it quits." He turned his head and she smirked.  
  
Sara turned off the buzzer and Grissom made her sit down. They began to eat the meal of salad, Italian bread, and lasagna. The conversation had turned toward work. Before she began on her lasagna, Sara said, "I thought you were working tonight."  
  
"I am," Grissom confirmed. "I told Catherine I'd be in late."  
  
"I can't convince you not to go at all?"  
  
He offered a slight smile and said, "Cath called before you showed up. They received two more cases. Under most circumstances, yes, but tonight, no."  
  
Sara smiled and looked at the two candles on the table. "This is nice, Gil." His head rose sharply at the use of his first name. She licked her lips and said, "Really nice."  
  
"You deserve nice."  
  
She dipped her head and continued with her meal. After she finished, she commented, "I forgot how good of a cook you are."  
  
He smiled and rested his fork on his plate. "You used to tell me to teach you to cook."  
  
"We never got around to that," she smiled. "Ever."  
  
Grissom nodded and said, "There were always more pressing things to do."  
  
Sara glanced at the clock. "How late were you planning on going into work?"  
  
"I told Catherine I'd be there by ten."  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "You allowed a lot of time."  
  
"I know how you are," he pointed out. He took their plates to the sink and started the coffee machine. "You always wanted to eat first and then talk later."  
  
"Which explains the prompt dinner," she grinned. "I'm flattered." She took the salad bowls to the sink. He watched her go back to the table and pick up to the stray pieces of silverware. She threw out the napkins and pushed the leftover food into the trashcan. When she turned on the faucet, Grissom took a step towards her.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Dishes," she replied, turning her head.  
  
He shook his head. "No, Sara."  
  
She rolled her eyes and rinsed off a plate. He stood a few feet behind her with his brow furrowed. After a minute, he approached her. He stood directly behind her, his chest barely brushing her back, and placed his hands on top of hers. He followed her motions for a few moments before he tightened his grip. He whispered, "Stop, Sara."  
  
She shuddered as his breath tickled her ear and neck. She leaned back slightly and rested against him. He took the bowl she was holding and set it down on the counter. He grabbed a dishtowel and moved it to their soapy hands. He gently rubbed the cloth against their skin, erasing the water and suds. When their hands were dry, he held both of hers with his right hand and hit the faucet with his left hand. The water stopped flowing. The dishtowel rested on the counter.  
  
Sara stared down at their hands. Time certainly had passed since they had been left in a position even remotely similar to this. She knew her reasons for deserting what could have been a fantastic romance. She was too young to settle down, too eager to see the world around her, too ambitious. She didn't know his, however.  
  
Grissom leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes. It had been too long since he had held her. He thought about the remaining time they had tonight. What were his intentions for the night? He had obviously given plenty of time to allow for something, anything to happen. But what? I just want to be with her, he thought. I just want to hear her voice and see her before me. I'm not expecting anything in return.  
  
Sara pulled her hands away and turned in his arms. She watched his eyes open. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He encircled her waist and held her tight. He had forgotten how good she felt against him.  
  
They remained that way for a few minutes before she placed a small kiss on his neck. She pushed him away and walked to the coffee pot. She asked, "Where are your mugs?"  
  
He removed a maroon mug and a black mug from a cabinet and rested them on the counter. She poured the coffee out and, after adding milk and sugar to hers, followed Grissom to the living room. They sat on the couch, close together. She took off her shoes and tucked her legs underneath her. She held the hot mug in her hands and stated, "Let's play a game. Monopoly."  
  
Grissom found the game and set it up. They played for a while, only speaking when it involved the game or when a side remark was needed. They didn't speak of the serious topics that hovered above them.  
  
Finally, when Sara counted her money to forfeit after landing on Grissom's property, Grissom spoke. "Do you ever feel yourself getting older, Sara?" She met his eyes. He looked at her knowingly. "You asked earlier if I ever felt that way. You must know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yeah, I feel it," she replied, handing over the slips of paper.  
  
"You're 32." He put the money in his pile.  
  
"And when I see Lindsey and I realize that I don't have a child." She shrugged. "I feel it then. When I see couples, I feel it then." She shook her head. "It's silly, I know, but it's there."  
  
"And then?"  
  
She gave him a withering look. She sighed and leaned against the couch and said, "And then I think of what could have been different if we hadn't agreed to. split. What if we had allowed ourselves to indulge in our emotions for once? Haven't you ever thought of that? We could be married right now, did you ever think of that?"  
  
"Are you sure that's what you would've wanted?"  
  
"I don't know. It wasn't meant to be, obviously, because we're not hitched." He smiled at her casual diction. She looked up at him and said, "Maybe I'm the only one who thinks like that."  
  
Grissom scooted closer to her and rested his hand on the nape of her neck. "Sara, listen. I've fought thinking about you. I've forced myself to become focused on other things. When I called you to come to Las Vegas, I slipped. I just wanted to see you again. I didn't want you to get away. Just having you here has been good for me."  
  
She smiled softly. "Are you taking me for granted?"  
  
He put his mug down and removed hers from her hands. He rested his other hand on her knee and said, "You're not the only one who thinks about the past. Don't doubt how much you mean to me."  
  
Sara nodded. She sighed and rested her hand on his leg. She hesitated before leaning forward. She pressed her lips against his and remained still. After a few seconds, she pulled back. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. He returned the gaze and then pulled her head back to him. They kissed.  
  
They became lost in a sea of emotions. It was just the two of them in the world. She could only feel his lips and his tongue and his fingers and his very being. The sensations threw her back in time to two months in a tiny apartment with no air conditioning in San Francisco, on a couch with her ex-professor, with exploring hands and inhibitions always thrown to the wind until one of them realized what they were doing and who they were.  
  
Sara smiled against his mouth and he chuckled. "What?" he asked, breaking the kiss.  
  
She kissed the corner of his mouth and ran her hand through his hair. "I missed this." Her fingers trailed down to the collar of his sweater. "I missed this a lot."  
  
He put his hands on her sides and pulled her closer. He whispered against her lips, "I don't plan on going anywhere."  
  
"Me either," she smiled. He kissed her again. "The Longest Time" played softly in the background and he held her closer.  
  
I'll take my chances-I forgot how nice romance is-I haven't been there for the longest time-I had second thoughts at the start-I said to myself-Hold on to your heart-Now I know the woman that you are-You're wonderful so far- And it's more than I hoped for-I don't care what consequence it brings-I have been a fool for lesser things-I want you so bad-I think you ought to know that-I intend to hold you for-The longest time  
  
Bam. :) Well, I hope you liked it and now, on to the next couple! But there will be more Griss and Sara, I promise. And I don't think the next chapter will be up to soon because I keep deleting what I have written. :) 


	8. Give Me A Break

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Author's Notes: It's been a long time! I've been on vacation and my work just ended and school's about to begin, so I'm trying to push this out as fast as I can. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Feedback: If you are able to click the little button at the bottom of the page, please do so! :)  
  
  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT: Give Me A Break  
  
Sara hurried into the crime lab at 7:17 p.m. She had her cell phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. She was attempting to tug off her coat and not drop the files in her arms. She ignored the curious stares and tried to understand what her mom was screaming over the phone.  
  
"Mom, I don't-" she closed her eyes when she saw the layout rooms were all empty. She turned on her heel and headed to the locker room. She pushed the door open and walked to her locker. She dropped the manila folders on the bench and glanced at Nick, who was sitting in front of his locker. She held the cell phone slightly away from her ear as she shrugged off her coat. She opened her locker and threw it in. "I can't come up, Mom, I'm sorry."  
  
Nick chuckled as he learned to whom she was talking. Sara glared at him and he kept a straight face. Greg burst into the locker room that morning and grinned as he spotted Nick. "Nick, man, I got a question for you."  
  
Sara slammed her locker and leaned her forehead against the cool metal. "Hey, Mom, Mom, listen. I'm late for work. I need to go. I'll call you when I get home. I love you, bye." She hung up before her mom could get a word in. She groaned, "Is Griss pissed?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "Nope, just worried."  
  
She turned her head and smiled, "Really?"  
  
Nick rolled his eyes at his rain-soaked colleague. Greg leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms, glaring at Sara. "Sara, stop swooning and go find him." She gave Greg a withering look, grabbed the files, and left. Greg turned to Nick and said, "Okay. Emily. Think she'll say yes if I ask her out?"  
  
"You haven't done it yet?" Nick asked. "Wow. You've had your eye on her since she got in Vegas." He closed his locker and stood. "You guys talk, right?"  
  
"Uh-huh," Greg nodded. "A lot."  
  
Nick smiled and headed to the door. "Then, yeah, I'd say she would take you up." He glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "Better hurry, though, because we're heading out on a case in two minutes."  
  
Greg asked, "Do it now?"  
  
"Yeah, man," Nick nodded. "She's won't be focused on anything else right now. Do it."  
  
Greg remained in the locker room after Nick left. He shuffled his feet and contemplated what he should do. He finally headed out in the hallways. He saw Emily walking towards Layout Room Two. He called out, "Emily! Wait up!"  
  
She turned and smiled and he almost stopped in his tracks. Las Vegas was being drenched with heavy downpour but Emily didn't appear affected by it. She wore jeans and a rust-colored sweater. She had on brown boots and a brown belt. Her hair was pulled up. She looked great. Greg suddenly felt self-conscious about his appearance. He tugged on the hem of his black sweater and he ran his hand through his hair, making it spikier.  
  
"Hey, Greg. What's up?"  
  
"Nothing much," he replied. He glanced over his shoulder for Nick and prayed his friend wasn't witnessing his unsteadiness. "Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to, um, go out somewhere on break today."  
  
She smiled at him and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds great."  
  
"Emily!" Both young adults turned their heads. Grissom and Nick were waiting down the hall.  
  
She looked back at Greg and said, "I have to go. Find me at break, okay?"  
  
He nodded and watched her depart. He spent the next hours in heaven. The workload didn't bother him. Nothing did. He kept a smile on his face until one in the morning, despite the teasing he received from Nick and Warrick.  
  
It was at one o'clock that Emily walked into the DNA lab. She leaned on the counter and said, "Hey Greg."  
  
"Hey Emily." He turned off his computer and asked, "You ready to go?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows and said, "Well, actually, I was wondering. I have a puppy and she's deathly afraid of storms. I need to go home and check on her. Can I take a rain check on your off-"  
  
"Do you want some company?" Greg asked.  
  
"You don't wanna go," she smiled, scrunching her nose up.  
  
"What do you mean I don't wanna go?"  
  
She hesitated before smiling. "It would be great if you came. I'm sorry."  
  
Greg shed his lab coat and grabbed his jacket. "Don't be." He put his hand on her back and led her out of the room. "Where do you live?"  
  
"Ashton Woods," she replied.  
  
Outside, heavy sheets of rain thundered down on the city. Jagged swords of intense light thrashed the sky with booming responses. Greg glanced over at Emily and called over the noise, "Where's your car?"  
  
"In the back," she yelled.  
  
"Mine's right there!" he cried, pointing to the second row. "I'll go get it and pick you up here."  
  
Emily gave Greg a look and grabbed his hand. She tugged him into the rain and they ran to his Jeep Cherokee. He fumbled with the keys on the passenger door before pulling the door open. She scurried inside and pulled the door shut. Greg ran around to the other side of the Jeep and put his hand on the handle, at the same time putting the key into the slot. To his surprise, the door opened from the pressure he applied on the handle. He saw Emily retreating to her side of the vehicle. He hurried inside and shut the door. A small smile graced his face. It had been a long time since a girl had opened the door for him. He vaguely remembered a comment Catherine had made about him not dating "quality girls."  
  
Greg started to drive and asked, "What kind of dog do you have?"  
  
"A Golden retriever," Emily replied with a slightly proud smile. "She's ten weeks old."  
  
Greg glanced over at his passenger and smiled. "Just a baby."  
  
"Just a baby," she grinned. She looked up at the visor on the ceiling and touched the CD holder Velcroed to it. She began inspecting CDs and asked, "Do you have any pets?"  
  
"I used to have an iguana, actually," Greg replied, checking behind his left shoulder to change lanes. "But I sold it a few months ago. I was never home and it was terrorizing my furniture."  
  
"I like iguanas."  
  
"Really?" Greg asked, surprised. "Most girls don't like creatures of the reptilian kind."  
  
Emily smiled flirtatiously. "Maybe I'm not like the other girls you know."  
  
"Maybe not," Greg said softly and smiled back.  
  
The remainder of the ride was spent listening to the music Emily randomly chose from his collection. Greg pulled into the apartment complex and Emily directed him to her building. He parked in her spot and they made a quick exit to the awning. Emily fished her keys from her purse and led the way up a flight of stairs. Greg followed her to Apartment #247.  
  
Emily quickly strode inside and called for her dog, named Tuesday. Greg shut the door and quietly observed the apartment. The walls were taupe, the tile floors were cream. The kitchen was directly to his left. It was clean. A small table sat in the corner with three chairs. A dog bowl was directly next to a door leading to the washer and dryer. The living room was in front of him. There were two chairs and a couch, all of which were of the same dark blue fabric. A hallway led out of the living room to two bedrooms and a bathroom.  
  
Emily appeared from the back rooms and said, "She's next door."  
  
Greg frowned and moved aside from the door. Emily opened the door and stepped outside. She walked about five feet and knocked on #249. A few moments later, a stout, elderly woman opened the door with a bundle of shaking reddish fur in her arms.  
  
"Hi, Mrs. Samora," Emily whispered. "Thank you so much."  
  
"Don't worry, Emily," the woman smiled. "She's a dear. She doesn't eat my chairs or anything."  
  
Emily smiled and took the dog from her neighbor. The puppy raised its head and licked Emily's chin. Emily stroked its head and said, "See you in the morning, Mrs. Samora. Thanks again."  
  
Mrs. Samora smiled and shut her door, expecting to go back in an hour and pick up the frightened puppy. Emily turned on her heel and walked back to Greg. She explained, "Sometimes, if Tuesday gets too loud, Mrs. Samora will come over and get her so the other neighbors aren't disturbed."  
  
"She's not sleeping?"  
  
"Her husband works at night," Emily replied, entering the apartment. "Down at one of the hotels as a doorman. She tries to keep herself on the same schedule as him." Emily turned the dog in her arms toward Greg. "Greg, this is Tuesday. Tuesday, this is Greg."  
  
Greg reached out to rub the puppy's head. She dipped her head and whimpered. Greg opened his mouth and Emily whispered, "Wait." The dog stared at his large hand before sniffing it. Then she timidly licked his finger. Finally, her tongue wet his hand readily. Emily smiled, "It takes her a while to like strangers."  
  
Emily put the puppy on the ground and, after watching her scamper down the hall, asked, "Do you want something to eat?"  
  
"No, I'm good."  
  
Emily rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You've been working for five hours. What do you want?"  
  
"Whatever you're having."  
  
"I'm going to heat up some soup. Is that good?"  
  
"Perfect," Greg smiled. He spotted a pile of dog toys next to the couch and he walked over to them. He leaned over and picked up a squishy ball. He squeezed it and a small squeak erupted from it. His eyebrows raised and Tuesday came running out of hallway. She tried to stop in front of him but wound up colliding into his legs. She yipped and tried to jump for the ball.  
  
Greg gave it an under-hand toss down the hallway. Tuesday took off after it. Greg sat on the floor and continued to play catch. After the soup was on the stove, Emily sat down next to him and said, "You don't have to play with her, you know." "Well, do you wanna play?"  
  
Emily looked over at him and caught the gleam in his eyes. "Not yet," she smiled. She reached out and stopped Tuesday from slamming into their legs. She reached over Greg and pulled another toy out. "Besides, these aren't my kind of toys."  
  
Greg smiled to himself.  
  
They remained on the floor, playing with Tuesday, until the soup began to simmer. Emily grabbed two bowls and two spoons and poured the soup. Greg joined her at the table and they began to eat. Tuesday amused herself with her toys for a while but then bounced over to Greg. She sat next to his feet, occasionally gnawing on the hem of his jeans.  
  
When their hunger was satisfied, Greg cleared the table and Emily ran down the halls of the apartment for a minute with Tuesday. Emily looked up at the clock and put her hands on her hips. "12:34. We have enough time to take you for a little walk outside."  
  
"It's pouring," Greg pointed out.  
  
"I know," she replied, scrunching up her nose. She grabbed Tuesday's leash from the laundry room and hooked it onto her collar. "We're going to have a wet dog in a few minutes."  
  
"I thought she was scared of the rain."  
  
"She is, but she needs to go outside." Emily pulled her jacket back on and grabbed her keys. She picked up an umbrella and opened the door. Tuesday reluctantly exited the apartment.  
  
On the first floor, Greg and Emily huddled under the umbrella. Tuesday ran free in the small park behind the apartments. Emily held the folded up leash in her hands. A strong wind gust blew, causing Tuesday to bark at the air and Emily to scoot closer to Greg. Instinctively, Greg's hand rested on the small of her back. She lowered her eyes and smiled.  
  
When Tuesday was safe and dry in the apartment, Emily and Greg left. They took the umbrella with them and made it to the car without getting too wet. The drive back to the lab was filled with conversation about work and cases and how Greg, on his good days, sometimes "solves the case."  
  
They walked through the storm back to the building, under the umbrella, close together. Just before they reached the building, a strong wind flew past them and they stopped walking. They both laughed as they got sprayed with water. Emily stood on her tiptoes and rested her hands on his shoulders. She whispered against nature into his ear, "Thanks for coming with me." She pressed her lips against his cheek. She came back down and her hands trailed down his chest. She smiled at his surprised expression and pulled him into the building.  
  
  
  
There you go! Please review; I'd greatly appreciate it. :) 


	9. Overtime Leads To...

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for the wonderful reviews!! I hope the story doesn't start to stink because my original intent has gone slightly astray. :) Whoops. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Feedback: Please!  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine: Overtime Leads To.  
  
The Las Vegas sun was shining down, causing everything to reflect light. Despite the solar heating, the temperature still refused to budge past sixty-three degrees. Sara trudged across the parking lot of the police department with Warrick and shielded the brightness with her hands. Another lead turned up dry. The Crime Lab's night shift was breaking their fourteenth hour on the job, and none were too happy.  
  
Catherine, who was trying not to think about her daughter, was in the ballistics room with Nick, who was fighting to keep his eyes open. Grissom was in one of the layout rooms, poring over texts and texts of communicable diseases. Emily was in the DNA lab, receiving information from Greg on their "unknown substance," which remained unknown.  
  
Warrick split from Sara in the hall and went to the break room to grab a bottle of water. Sara found Grissom and went to see if he had learned anything since her departure. Grissom raised his eyes when Sara walked into the lab. "Find anything?"  
  
"No. Did you?" she asked as she picked up one of the books. "Ooh, 'The Torture of the Communicable Disease.'" She rested it on the counter and grinned. "Good reading."  
  
Grissom smiled back and returned to his perusing. Sara sat on a stool and flipped through another book. After a few moments, Grissom asked, "Is everyone still here?"  
  
"Yeah. Even Emily."  
  
His head jerked up. "Emily's still here?"  
  
A frown washed over Sara's face. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
"I told her no overtime. Not yet," he sighed. He put the book down and asked, "You know where she is?"  
  
"Probably with Greg."  
  
Grissom headed for the door, leaving a steaming Sara in his wake. At the doorframe, he stopped and turned. He rested his right hand on the wall and said, "I'm leaving in about an hour. I was going to go to breakfast and then go home. I want you to come with me."  
  
Sara looked at him steadily for a few moments. Then she nodded. "Okay."  
  
Grissom smiled and headed down the hall. He entered the analysis lab to find Emily and Greg at the counter with about ten printouts in front of them. Greg was standing slightly behind her, almost hovering over her left side, but propping himself up with his left hand against the counter. Grissom could her him explaining something on the sheet to her.  
  
The shuffle of shoes on tile caused Emily's head to turn around. She looked past Greg's arm and spotted Grissom in the doorway. She smiled. "Hi, Grissom." She gently rested her hand on Greg's stomach as she moved to the left and around his body. "How's the reading coming?"  
  
"As unproductive as it was two hours ago." He glanced at the clock and, with a stern tone, questioned, "Why are you here, Emily?"  
  
She winced and glanced up at Greg. He shrugged and looked at Grissom. "I'm working." The smile that broke onto her face erased the slight tension in the room. "Why can't I do overtime?"  
  
"Because you're an intern," Grissom pointed out, "and there's no need for you to be pulling long hours if you're not getting paid for it."  
  
"I'm getting paid with extra knowledge." Greg snorted and turned away. Emily laughed and said, "All right, I'll leave. Don't solve this case in the next ten hours, Grissom."  
  
"All right, but I can't guarantee it'll be here in fifty-eight hours."  
  
Emily frowned at him and sighed. "It's Saturday, isn't it?"  
  
"You got the whole weekend off?" Greg asked.  
  
She nodded and said, "Okay. See you Monday." She smiled at both men and headed toward the locker room to grab her personal things. Grissom turned to Greg and asked, "What 'extra knowledge' are you giving her, Greg?"  
  
Greg grinned broadly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing she can use in the crime lab." His teasing tone rang in Grissom's ears as he headed to the break room. "I'm leaving at noon, Grissom."  
  
"Only if you make the next three hours count."  
  
Greg passed Sara in the hallway and asked, "How's it going, Sidle?"  
  
Sara gave him a funny look and stopped walking. She folded her arms and said, "It's going pretty good. What about you? I haven't talked with you in a while."  
  
"Yeah, you've been kind of preoccupied with Grissom."  
  
"And you've been preoccupied with Emily." The retort found its target. Greg's eyes widened but he recovered quickly.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"I knew it."  
  
"You know nothing."  
  
"I know that you like Emily," Sara smiled. "I won't tell anyone. I think it's great." Greg didn't respond. Sara studied Greg's expression and spoke gingerly. "Has anything happened?"  
  
Greg focused his eyes on his once-crush. "Don't do guy talk, Sara. It's not fitting."  
  
"I'm not doing guy talk, Greggo," she grinned. "I wanna know."  
  
"Nothing." The confession came as a slight blow to his ego. He crossed his arms as well and repeated the word. "Nothing."  
  
"Does she know?"  
  
Greg shook his head and then stopped. "I don't know." He cleared his throat and said, "I gotta go. I'll see ya later."  
  
He walked away from Sara and entered the break room. Grissom came up and stood behind Sara. She started to look at him but the locker room door opened and caught her eye. Emily emerged, looking down at the cell phone in her hand, and didn't notice the two at the end of the hall. Sara pursed her lips and turned to Grissom. A smile played on her lips and she whispered, "Let's leave now."  
  
Outside, Emily got into her car and started to drive to her apartment. She understood why Grissom didn't want her around for extra hours. She was a liability, for one: she was only supposed to work fifty-sixty hours a week and if something happened to her while she was there after her shift was over, hell could break loose. She also knew that Grissom didn't see it fair that she worked hard and efficiently and didn't receive any reimbursement. But despite the rules, Emily wanted to stay longer. She enjoyed the people, the work, everything. The atmosphere was pleasant. She felt at home.  
  
Her home, however, was still empty, despite having Tuesday running around. She needed human contact, human male contact, specifically, and was receiving none. Sure, Greg had come over once, but it had been for less than an hour. She wanted to see more of him in her apartment.  
  
Emily arrived at her apartment and promptly took Tuesday for a jog. She fell asleep for six hours, woke up, took a shower, cooked some pasta, and took Tuesday out one more time. She came back and put on black pants, black boots, and a red halter-top. She pulled her hair back with a rubber band and grabbed her keys. It was 5:34 and she had to go to work.  
  
Emily jingled her keys in her hand as she walked to her car. In the parking lot, she heard someone yell her name. She turned her head and frowned. Her landlord was jogging up to her. She slowly walked towards him. He neared her and exclaimed, "Miss Reese! I've been trying to get a hold of you for two days! You have a most difficult schedule."  
  
Emily suppressed her smile and asked, "Did you call my apartment? My answering machine's been acting up and I think-"  
  
"No, miss, this isn't the kind of news I want you to hear from a machine." He sighed and scratched his head. "I would've sworn one of you neighbors had told you by now."  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"We're not making enough money on the apartments, Miss Reese. We've raised the rent."  
  
Emily felt her heart pound in her chest. "How much?"  
  
"Another one-fifty a month."  
  
Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open. She couldn't afford that much more a month. Her parents were paying for the apartment for the four months she was in Las Vegas and the money was already stretched. Four hundred and fifty more dollars was out of the question.  
  
"Sorry, miss. I have to do it," he sighed. "If you decide to move out, you can. There won't be a penalty for breaking lease, but there won't be a refund for good keeping." He shook his head and backed away. "If you decide to stay, rent is still due the fifteenth."  
  
Emily watched him walk away. She got into her car and slowly made her way to Leonardo's. She had five days to come up with one hundred and fifty dollars. She didn't have a roommate and that made getting the money extra difficult. She didn't know anyone in the city she could room with, either. She took a few deep breaths and forced the matter out of her mind. She had to work and be personal; worrying about rent was not going to make the matter easier.  
  
The parking lot of Leonardo's was bordering on maximum capacity. She pulled her car into a spot near the back and walked into the building. She walked through the kitchen doors to the offices. She clocked in and shared a few greetings with some of the cooks and waiters. She headed back to the front of the restaurant.  
  
The bar was nestled in the front left corner of the building. Eleven patrons were sitting at the stools, each nursing their poison. Emily stepped into the bar and the bartender on duty smiled at her. "Hey, Emily."  
  
"Hi, Max." She tapped her fingernails on the counter and asked, "Who's had too much?"  
  
"Everyone," he joked. "Nah, we have no guzzlers tonight. They've all been good. But classes have been in session for two weeks now. I expect a big crowd tonight."  
  
"Thanks for the heads-up," she replied, making her way over to a middle-aged man with an empty beer glass. For six hours, she served drinks, listened to stories, shared jokes, sang with the customers, and flirted with the college boys who tended to give her extra tips but always looked at their money longingly after she told them she lived in Florida.  
  
About half past eleven, one of the four managers approached the bar. He called Emily over and asked, "Is everyone finishing up?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied. There were three people remaining at the bar. "I'm going to call a cab for him," she declared, nodding towards the gentleman at the far end of the bar.  
  
The manager nodded and asked, "Do you want me to get someone to stay to walk you out?"  
  
She almost replied in the affirmative but the front door opened. She looked up and smiled at the familiar figure. "No, I'll be fine."  
  
The manager followed her gaze and smiled. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow night, Emily."  
  
Emily said good-bye and picked up the telephone. She called a cab service and asked for a cab to come to Leonardo's. She hung the phone back on the holder and walked to her exceptionally drunk customer. "Charlie, guess what?"  
  
The drunk looked at her and said, "Gimme another beer, Emily."  
  
She smiled at his slightly slurred speech and said, "No, sir, you've had enough. I've got a ride for you, okay, Charlie?"  
  
"Some peanuts, then."  
  
She gave him a bowl of peanuts and turned to her two other customers. The newcomer had taken a seat at the other end of the bar. She didn't acknowledge his presence with her eyes but changed her body language slightly, always making sure to stand in a stance she knew was becoming of her.  
  
Mark was the name of one of the stragglers. His friend, still unknown and slightly more sober, was pulling on his arm to leave. "Emily, my dear," Mark declared, holding his jacket in the air. "I've decided to take you home. I will drive you back to your place!"  
  
Emily chuckled and said, "Thanks, but no thanks, Mark. You don't need to do that."  
  
"Then how are you gonna get there?"  
  
"Get where?" Emily teased.  
  
"To..." Mark frowned. After a few moments, he exclaimed, "Home!"  
  
Emily laughed and leaned forward, resting her palms on the counter. "You know what, Mark? See that guy over there?" She pointed to the left and said, "That's who I'm going home with."  
  
"Oh, I see." He sighed and said, "Okay, it's all right. I'll see you later, Emily." He slapped some bills on the counter and stumbled over his friend.  
  
"Bye, Mark."  
  
She followed them out the door with her eyes. She slowly, purposefully, walked over to the end of the bar. She leaned against the bar and asked, "What can I get you?"  
  
"Coors Light."  
  
Emily poured him a glass and set it in front of him. She leaned over and folded her arms against the counter. As he picked up the glass, she saw his eyes slide down her face to her revealed skin. The halter-top did dip a little low, she knew it, but it never hurt with the tips. It was always a winner when she leaned over as she was doing now. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Seeing you," he replied.  
  
She smirked and said, "For real."  
  
"You told me you worked at Leonardo's on your nights off," Greg reminded her. "I listened." She nodded and walked away. She busied herself with cleaning up her station. A few minutes later, a car honked outside. She dropped her rag and stepped out from behind the bar. She brushed her hand against Greg's back as she passed him and noticed with a smile how he sat up straighter.  
  
"Charlie, buddy, it's time for you to go."  
  
Charlie threw some money on the counter and allowed Emily to help him away from the bar. She escorted him outside and safely into the cab. She gave the cabbie some money and, after looking at Charlie's driver's license, Charlie's address.  
  
Back inside the bar, Emily spoke softly. "We pay for a cab service if they're too drunk to go anywhere."  
  
Greg nodded. He drank more of his beer and asked, "When do you get off?"  
  
"As soon as this place is clean." She wiped down Charlie's area and said, "I'm glad you're here."  
  
"Me, too." Emily flashed a smile at him and he returned one.  
  
The decision was made for Greg to follow Emily back to her apartment. She clocked out and they exited the restaurant. He followed her back to her apartment. Once inside, Emily asked, "Is it all right if I take a shower? I smell like Italian food and beer."  
  
"Sure, go ahead."  
  
Greg flipped through the day's newspaper as Emily showered. Tuesday was curled up next to the couch. After about ten minutes, the water stopped. A minute later, he heard footsteps behind him. Emily was walking into the living room, her hair wet and combed, dressed in a midnight blue towel that ended far high above her knees. She didn't clutch it closed at her chest but had folded the towel over. She bit her lip and frowned.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I can't find my..." She smiled triumphantly and walked to the large chair. She picked up her pajama pants and said, "Never mind. Help yourself to whatever you want."  
  
Greg stood and walked into the kitchen. He poured himself some tea and sat back down. A few minutes later, Emily emerged in her pajama pants and a white spaghetti strap shirt. She grabbed some tea as well and sat next to him. "Anything happen in the world today?"  
  
"Nope." He folded the front page over and rested it on the table. "Anything happen to you today?"  
  
She frowned and proceeded to tell him the story about her rent. After she finished, he commented, "That really sucks. How are you going to handle it?"  
  
"I don't know." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "I don't have a clue."  
  
Greg was silent for a few minutes. He struggled with his thoughts in the quiet before saying, "Hey, maybe this will work." She looked over at him and he continued, "I've been looking for a roommate because my rent just got jacked up a little too. But if it's divided by two, it's not bad at all. It'll be a hundred dollars less than your rent right now."  
  
Emily hesitated and asked, "Are you asking me to..."  
  
"Move in. There's two bedrooms, two baths. It's perfect." His voice was shaking slightly as he sold his apartment to her. "Pets are allowed, so Tuesday's in like flint. You'd like it, really. It's big."  
  
She smiled and said, "That's really nice, Greg, but I'll have to think about it, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I understand."  
  
"I'll let you know really soon. I have to pay rent or be out in five days."  
  
Greg smiled and nodded. "Whatever you decide is cool. So, um, what do you wanna do right now?"  
  
"Watch a movie."  
  
They decided on "The Patriot." During the course of the movie, they both ended up stretching out on the couch. Towards the end, Emily snaked her arm around Greg's middle and mumbled, "I'll move in with you." He looked down at her and she looked up at him with sleepy eyes. "You sure?" he asked.  
  
"Positive." She smiled at him and blinked slowly. She propped herself up on her elbow and nodded. "Yeah." He smiled back at her.  
  
She lowered her head slightly and her blonde curls tickled his face. He reached up with his left hand and cupped her face. He led her down to his mouth. They kissed. It was how it was supposed to be, with a month's worth of dancing around behind it and all the sincerity they felt in their hearts.  
  
He started to shift so that she would be resting against the cushions but he felt how drained she was beneath his hands. He ended the kiss and pressed his lips against her cheek. "Just rest," he whispered.  
  
Her head nestled against his shoulder and neck. He held her against him and watched as Mel Gibson fought for his son's memory.  
  
  
  
And there you have it. School's in session again and I have a few AP monsters to fights but I should update soon. :) If you review, that is. :) 


	10. Mornings

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: Holy geez, I love every single one of you who reviewed the story so far (especially the ones from Chapter 9)!! I'm always so nervous when I check the reviews and then I see them and it's such a good feeling. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your days to write me a few words. Again, this story has some suck-potential coming at you since the plan has been tossed into the trash. But I wanna get to the good stuff so I shall go on, dumb chapters and all. :) Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Feedback: Always welcome.  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten: Mornings  
  
Sara groaned when her eyelids lifted slightly, just slightly, and sunlight penetrated her sensitive eyes. She shut her eyes and rolled onto her stomach. She tossed her right arm over to the left side of the bed. Feeling the cool sheets beneath her palm and fingertips, she raised her head and dared to open the eyes. The bedroom was empty. To her left, the alarm clock read 12:51.  
  
She sat up and stretched. Her night off had involved cleaning her home and, due to her inability to sleep, driving to his home to crash on his couch. She vaguely remembered being carried upstairs. Other than that, her mind went blank. She looked down and smiled. Her shoes were resting next to the bed, as was her jacket and her jeans. She was still in her red tank top and a pair of his sweatpants donned her legs.  
  
She headed for the stairs and smiled. Mornings with Grissom were usually the same but the novelty refused to wear off. He made coffee, she fixed breakfast, they stretched out on the couch with the newspaper, and they relaxed. It was nice and it was comforting. It was a new routine she was quickly becoming very used to.  
  
The first morning had been two weeks ago. She remembered it clearly. They had spent the majority of the morning (or afternoon, since their work hours caused them to sleep through the morning) in bed, fooling around. Reluctantly, their stomachs forced them to go to the kitchen. He had made a pot of coffee, she had made pancakes. And so the ritual began.  
  
The stairs creaked as she treaded down the stairs. She heard the soft strains of Beethoven in the background. "Moonlight Sonata." She had learned to play that in her childhood. A swarm of youthful memories swept over her as she hit the first floor. She turned the corner and new memories flew through her head. He was sitting at the dining room table, his back to her. His bearing didn't change as if he hadn't heard her approaching at all.  
  
She stood behind him and leaned over, running her hands over his chest. He didn't jump or flinch; he leaned his head back slightly and asked, "Did you have a good sleep?"  
  
She nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Did you?"  
  
"Yes." He rested his reading glasses on the table and turned to face her. "I had a nice surprise when I came home this morning."  
  
She grinned and moved to sit on his lap. "I thought you'd like it." She picked up his coffee mug and took a sip of the tepid liquid. "Actually, I couldn't sleep at my place." She made a face and rested the mug on the table. "It's cold."  
  
"It was made an hour ago."  
  
"How come you're up?" She ran her hand down his arm to his left hand and played the masterpiece on his knuckles.  
  
"I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Are you going to help move Emily into Greg's apartment?"  
  
Grissom shook his head and said, "I have an appointment at three. And Jim and I were going to meet for lunch."  
  
"You cheating on me?"  
  
"I'd never think of it," he replied. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She kissed him back and swung her leg over his lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. She loved mornings with Grissom.  
  
After tearing herself away from Grissom, she showered and changed into her jeans from the night before and a shirt she had left at his apartment a few days before. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and asked, "Are you sure you can't come help?"  
  
Grissom turned away from his Laptop and nodded. "I think you kids will have more fun by yourselves, anyway."  
  
Sara wrinkled her nose. "You're not old, Gil."  
  
He offered an amused smile and stood. He approached the front door and said, "Go. Have fun with Emily and Greg."  
  
"And Nick and Warrick."  
  
Grissom nodded. "Them, too. Just don't skip work." He pulled Sara against him and kissed her. "Any of you."  
  
"We'll be there," she grinned. She kissed him back and turned to leave. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. She gave him a funny look and asked, "What?"  
  
He held her tight against him and whispered against her ear, "Happy Valentine's Day, Sara."  
  
Sara was taken slightly aback. The date had slipped her mind. She hadn't planned on celebrating it since the fact of the matter was she had been unattached until very recently. She smiled, one of her smiles that Grissom only received when no one else was looking, and kissed him gently. "Happy Valentine's Day, Gil."  
  
He released her as soon as she spoke the words and said, "Go. But I'll be at your place at five to get you."  
  
"Attire?" Her voice held the twinge of hope for a nice date to an extremely nice restaurant.  
  
"Nice."  
  
She rolled her eyes at his vague words and headed down the front walk. Despite his teasing, a smile clung to her lips. The drive to Greg's apartment was somewhat short. She arrived to find Nick and Greg moving a stereo system out of Greg's Jeep. She parked a few spots down and walked up to the Jeep.  
  
Nick nodded at Sara and said, "Hey. Wanna help?"  
  
She smiled sarcastically. "That's why I'm here." She grabbed a speaker and asked, "Where's Emily?"  
  
"Getting a key from the front office," Greg grunted as he picked up a box. The three walked up the stairs to Greg's second floor apartment. His apartment was nice, one of the best finds between all of them. The floor was hardwood, the rooms were spacious, the windows were big, and the bathrooms were connected to the bedrooms.  
  
Nick turned his head to Sara as they stepped into the apartment. "Greg moved all of his stuff out of his bedroom so she could have the big one."  
  
Sara smiled at Greg. "Really?"  
  
"Shut up," Greg frowned. "She doesn't know."  
  
Sara noticed four pairs of keys and three wallets sitting on the table near the door. She set her keys next to the pile and asked, "Is Warrick here?"  
  
"He's walking Tuesday around... somewhere."  
  
Sara walked into Greg's old bedroom. There was the bed frame that came with the apartment in the middle of the room. Emily's mattress was resting haphazardly on top of it. Two garbage bags and a suitcase were against the left wall. To the right sat the bureau that came with the apartment; small boxes and two makeup bags rested on it. A midnight blue backpack slumped against the side of the dresser. Further down the right wall was the door to the bathroom. It was empty and clean. The entire room smelled clean.  
  
Sara set the speaker on the floor and made room for Nick to put the stereo down. Greg slipped past them with the box and commented, "You know, I really expected her to bring more stuff. You know, an entire wardrobe and fifty pairs of shoes. Stuff like that."  
  
"Well, she'll only be here for another two months," Nick pointed out. "She doesn't need her life."  
  
Greg became quiet. He stood with the two for a moment before exiting the room. Sara looked out the window and said, "I'm glad this worked out for both of them."  
  
Nick nodded in agreement. He held out his arm and said, "C'mon. There are only a few more boxes." She smiled and walked up to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and teased, "You missed moving the couch." She just smiled and walked outside with him.  
  
Thirteen minutes later, all of Emily's belongings were in her new bedroom. Nick grabbed his things and left, claiming he had a big date to get ready for. Warrick came back with Tuesday and said his goodbyes as well.  
  
Emily came back to the apartment and sighed. "It took me twenty minutes to convince him that I really was living here now and then ten minutes for me to get him to give me a-" She stopped and frowned. Her hands found their places on her hips and she exclaimed, "Greg! I told you not to unpack anything. I was going to help!"  
  
Sara looked over at Greg, who was nursing a glass of water, and smiled at his tiny grin. The solitary man in the room shrugged and said, "We just wanted to help."  
  
Emily smiled at him and looked over at Sara. "Thanks, Sara."  
  
"No problem." Sara raised her eyebrows and said, "Well, I gotta go. Have a good day."  
  
Greg smirked and said, "Have fun with Grissom before work."  
  
Emily twisted her head to the left to look at Greg. She raised her eyebrows and then looked back at Sara. Sara rolled her eyes and said, "Bye, Emily." She left the apartment. Emily shut the door quietly and then rushed back to the kitchen.  
  
"Grissom and Sara?"  
  
Greg gave her a funny look. "You didn't know?" He grabbed a glass and asked, "What do you want?"  
  
"Water, please. No, I didn't know. Since when?"  
  
Greg filled the glass and handed it to her. "Uh, maybe two weeks, three? I'm not sure. I don't get all the details."  
  
Emily wrinkled her nose. "I can't see it."  
  
"When you see them together, you'll see it." Greg cleared his throat and asked, "You want some help putting things away?"  
  
Emily studied his face for a moment. She nodded then and smiled. She turned around and led the way to her new bedroom. For the first time since the development of she and Greg rooming together, she felt one hundred percent certain that nothing bad could come of it.  
  
Across town, Sara was busy planning what she would wear as she drove to her apartment. Whatever she chose, it needed to be nice enough for dinner and sensible enough for a night at work. She took a left turn across traffic, forgetting her blinker in her clothing dilemma, and tapped her left leg with her fingers. She didn't have the slightest idea.  
  
In her apartment, Sara narrowed it down to three outfits. It was a three-way tie between a black, knee-length skirt and a maroon tank top; black slacks and a crimson, ribbed shirt; and the outfit she had worn on her first date with Grissom. She was partial to the latter choice. She laid them out on the chair in her bedroom and set her alarm for 3:20. She needed some rest before logging in another night at work.  
  
Sleep came surprisingly easy. Sara awoke refreshed and ready for her date with Grissom. She took an extra long bath, taking special attention to make sure her legs were the smoothest they could be. Grissom had mentioned to her that he thought she had cute feet. So after the bath, she decided on wearing her black strappy heels and she painted her toenails a dark red color. She put lotion on her legs and arms. She blow-dried her hair and used a curling iron to curl up the ends. She put on makeup, a task she usually skipped, but decided it necessary on Valentine's Day.  
  
She was ready at four fifty-three. She picked a piece of lint off of her black sweater coat. She smacked her lips a few times before deciding to grab a pair of dark silver pants from her bedroom so she could work at a crime scene and not worry about the others at the scene seeing things they shouldn't be seeing.  
  
There was a knock on the door and she opened it up. Grissom was wearing the suit he had worn to the chief's funeral. It was a sad memory for her to place his attire with, but he looked good in it. She reached up and grabbed the lapels of the jacket. She pulled him forward and kissed him lightly. She smiled at his silly grin and asked, "Where are you taking me?"  
  
He proceeded to take her to Chez Martine, a fancy restaurant in the lobby of one of the hotels on the Strip. They spent the entire dinner whispering close together, giggling about the other people in the restaurant, talking about their friends, and not mentioning work at all.  
  
It was 7:16 when they were done with dinner. Sara pointed out to Grissom as they got to the car that they were late for work.  
  
"It's okay," Grissom said. He kissed her cheek and said, "I'll talk to your boss." He shut her door and went to the driver's side. The drive to the police department was short. Sara rested her hand gently on his lower thigh the entire ride. She watched the scenery go by, just enjoying the moment. St. Valentine's Day passed by sans any crimes. The team spent the night catching up on paperwork and exchanging nightmare Valentine's Day stories of the past in the break room. The morning sun came quickly. It brought in the day team and ushered the night crew out.  
  
In the parking lot, Grissom and Sara said goodbye to Nick, Warrick, Catherine, Emily, and Greg. Sara didn't speak as Grissom drove her back to her apartment. He parked in the spot next to her Tahoe. She took his hand and brought him up to her apartment. Inside, she stopped by the large bay window in the living room. She gently chewed on her lower lip as she watched the sun hanging above the horizon. She felt him behind her and she brushed his leg with her hand. She smiled at the world outside and then at him.  
  
Yes, she did love mornings.  
  
  
  
So what was originally supposed to be all about Greg and Emily and the new apartment thing turned out to be about Sara and Grissom. Oh well, what can you do? I hope you enjoyed it (I'll know if you enjoyed it if you review!) and I'll try to update as soon as I possibly can. :) 


	11. Missing

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: Ah, this is Chapter Eleven. Junk, that's a lot. (I thought you all could use a profound statement.) You see, I have the end of this story all mapped out. I know exactly what's going to happen. But the big problem is I have to fill in the two months or so that takes place between now and Emily's departure from the crime lab. And I've got nothing, really. So bear with me. I didn't edit this chapter either; I was too tired to read through it again. :)  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Archive: Please don't.  
  
Feedback: Is my absolute most favorite thing in the world. :)  
  
  
  
Chapter Eleven: Missing  
  
Rebel Run was littered with small homes with unkempt gardens, broken car parts, dirty toys, and now a throng of spectators. Warrick parked the police department-issued Tahoe on the right side of the road, across the street from the crime scene. Nick and Emily emerged from the SUV as well. Jim Brass waited just past the crime scene tape for them.  
  
The three investigators ducked under the tape. Brass said, "Youngest daughter, age of four, was reported missing yesterday. It's been twenty- four hours and still no sign of her. Ecklie's team came in yesterday and searched the house. They found no trace of a struggle. The parents are adamant that their daughter wouldn't run away. They can't find the dog, either."  
  
Warrick nodded and said, "Nick and I will search the house. Emily, go talk to the family. Find out what you can about the girl, where her favorite place is, if she would talk to strangers, stuff like that."  
  
Emily nodded and Brass led her into the house. Appearances were deceiving. The outside of the house was old and ragged and mildewed. Inside, however, the decorations were quaint and cozy. The walls were taupe; the carpet was a navy blue. There were pictures of the family on every surface and wall. Knick-knacks and paintings also added character to the house.  
  
Emily entered the kitchen to find the remaining family. The mom and her three children were sitting at the kitchen table. The mother's face was tear-stained. She was wrapped in a blanket and had one arm sticking out to hold on to her baby. The baby was chewing on a once frozen ring, but now water was trailing down its chubby wrists. The two other children, a girl and an older boy, were no older than nine. They sat silently, looking out the window to the chaos around them. The father stood by the stove with a phone next to his ear and an address book at his hand.  
  
The voices of police officers were quite audible throughout the house. Walkie-talkies crackled with serious voices in them. Outside, flashlight beams and search and rescue dogs bounced throughout the yard and street. Emily took a deep breath and stepped closer to the family.  
  
"Mrs. Coleman?" The woman raised her head wearily. Emily offered her a small smile and said, "My name's Emily Reese. I'm with the crime lab. Can I ask you a few questions about your daughter?"  
  
"Lizzie," the woman replied. She nodded and pulled the baby closer to her stomach. Emily sat across from her. "She's four, brown hair to her shoulders, very tiny for her age. Brown eyes, button nose."  
  
Emily jotted down the information. "What was she wearing yesterday?"  
  
Mrs. Coleman frowned. "I already told the other officers all this. How come everyone keeps-"  
  
"I'm not a part of the police department, ma'am," Emily replied. "I'm with the crime lab. I need my own set of information from you."  
  
The mother looked down at her older children and asked, "What's a crime lab?"  
  
Emily chose her words carefully. "Your home is a crime scene. Lizzie may have left evidence behind her, like hair or pieces of her clothing. We find them and go through them at the crime lab. The evidence will lead us to her."  
  
"Do you think someone took her?" Tears slipped out of the mother's eyes.  
  
"I-I can't say just yet, Mrs. Coleman. I don't know." Emily looked down and cleared her throat. "What was she wearing?"  
  
"A pink shirt with hearts on it and jeans."  
  
"Shoes?"  
  
"I don't know," she sighed. "The kids run around all day, sometimes with shoes, sometimes not." She hesitated and said, "I looked through her closet and I saw her white sandals missing. I thought they might be on the patio with everyone else's."  
  
"Where's her favorite place?"  
  
"The playground on Matthews Street. She's always asking to go there." A sob escaped her throat and the two older children looked up at their mom. The baby started to whine. Mrs. Coleman turned around and said, "Jonathon, take the baby."  
  
The son stood up and said, "I'll get him, Mom." He took the baby in his arms and put the teething ring pack in the freezer. He pulled a new one out and pressed it against the baby's lips. The baby immediately took it in his hands. The father continued to speak on the voice, his voice strained and worried.  
  
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. "Matthews Street is a ten minute walk away. She wouldn't go by herself."  
  
Emily nodded and asked, "Does she know not to talk to strangers? Would she ever go up to someone who offers her candy or a puppy?"  
  
"No," came a small voice to the right. Emily looked over and saw the little girl leaning against the table. "Daddy told us not to. Lizzie knows not to talk to strangers. Max is gone too."  
  
"Max is your dog?" Emily asked.  
  
"Yeah. I named him. Is Lizzie coming home?"  
  
Emily nodded. "We're working on it."  
  
The little girl nodded and turned to the baby. "Hey, Baby Bobby." She tickled his stomach and sighed. She stood then, and took a few steps over to her mother. She rested her head on her shoulder and whispered, "I love you, Mommy."  
  
Emily's heart sank in her chest cavity. She gulped down oxygen as she saw the mother's arm curl around her daughter. "I'll come back," she promised weakly and escaped the confines of the kitchen. She pushed through the heat in the small home and burst into the backyard. She walked about twenty yards away from the property, almost to the tree line, when she stopped. She put her hands on her hips and breathed deeply.  
  
She tried to wipe her tears away inconspicuously. She could not imagine what that woman was going through, what her husband and children were going through, and yet she was trying. When the other daughter had whispered her love to her mother, Emily had practically lost it. Her heart continued to pound and her throat did not loosen.  
  
She took a few more paces toward the wood. She heard the voices of the search and rescue team. The flashlight beams bounced around. One caught her eyes and she turned around. She ran her hands through her arm and muttered, "Calm down. Calm down."  
  
She shakily headed back to the house. At the back door, a spot of white caught her eye. She turned to the left and sighed. Two tiny white sandals rested haphazardly on the cement slab that served as a porch. They were not big enough to belong to the sister. They were Lizzie's.  
  
Emily reentered the kitchen. This time, the father, Jonathon, was sitting with the children. The mother was out in the front yard talking to Brass. Emily sat down at introduced herself. He smiled politely and glanced at the clock on the wall. Emily asked, "Are the white sandals on the back porch Lizzie's?"  
  
"The ones with the blue flowers? Yes, ma'am, I bought those for her last week." His voice caught and he looked down at his three remaining children. He reached out with a long arm and, in one swift stroke, gently pawed all three of them over to him. He put the daughter on one leg and the son on the other. The son continued to hold the baby.  
  
Emily licked her lips and said, "Mr. Coleman, I don't have any remaining questions to ask you. If something comes up, I'll let you know right away."  
  
"All right. Thank you, Ms. Reese."  
  
She smiled and stood up. She was almost out the door when a small voice called, "Bye Emily."  
  
She turned around and smiled at the little girl. "Bye, sweetie."  
  
She walked down the long narrow corridor to find Nick and Warrick. She found Nick, first, in the bathroom at the end of the hall. She stood in the doorway and said, "Hey."  
  
He didn't look up and said, "Hey." He shined his compact flashlight in the corner between the vanity and the wall and asked, "Anything from the parents?"  
  
"She wasn't wearing shoes and she knows not to talk to strangers and she wouldn't go down to the playground on Matthews Street by herself." Emily sighed and weaved her fingers through her hair. "Absolutely nothing."  
  
Warrick came up behind Emily and said, "Nothing in the girl's bedroom." Emily clenched her jaw and looked past Warrick down the dimly lit hall. Warrick glanced down at her for a moment before asking, "Got something, Nick?"  
  
"I... Yeah," he mumbled. He blindly groped for the camera behind his crouched form and brought it over to where he was. He took a picture of the corner and then the entire baseboard and said, "Blood, I think. And some hair." He used tweezers to put the hair in a tiny packet and swabbed some of the blood with a sterile Q-tip. He pursed his lips and said, "This could be from anything. A stubbed toe-"  
  
"That was streaked about two inches across the wall?" Warrick pointed out.  
  
"With hair stuck in it?" Emily mentioned.  
  
"When people brush or blow-dry their hair, hair falls to the ground." Nick waved his hand, leaving the rest of the information unsaid. He put the evidence back in his kit and stood up. "Anything else?"  
  
"Sadly, Ecklie did a pretty good job here." Warrick swung his right foot across the floor a few times and turned to leave. Emily followed suit. Nick was last, checking all the baseboards as he walked.  
  
Outside, the three CSIs got into the Tahoe and drove away. Emily tapped her foot on the floor of the vehicle and leaned forward into the front seat. "Warrick, can you go by Matthews Street?"  
  
Warrick nodded and took a left hand turn. "Sure. Why?"  
  
"I just wanna look."  
  
Warrick shot Nick a look. Nick shrugged and checked the call he had missed on his cell phone. Warrick navigated the streets, finding Matthews easily. He pulled into the small gravel parking lot and parked. Emily undid her seatbelt and emerged from the car.  
  
The overcast skies plus the nearing twilight gave the playground an eerie look. Emily walked over the sand in her black boots and entered the sectioned-off play area. There were three slides, two swing sets, a set of monkey bars, a large jungle gym, and an area toward the back of the playground for toddlers. Picnic tables were outside the play area, surrounding the two feet high barrier made of stone.  
  
Emily stood in the middle of the playground, next to the jungle gym, and turned in a slow circle. She didn't see any torn or left-behind clothing. There were no keys or wallets littering the ground, not even trash. She turned on her flashlight and shined the light on the enclosure. She rotated almost a full 360 degrees when she saw something on the barrier at the north end of the playground, near the woods.  
  
She walked closer to it and knelt next to the partition. There was blood on the stonewall. She left her flashlight next to the wall and walked back to the Tahoe. She opened the trunk and grabbed her kit. Nick called to her, "What?"  
  
"Blood." At her simple word, Warrick and Nick exited the vehicle. They followed her to the specific location, being sure to follow each other's footprints. Emily easily took a sample of the blood and took a picture.  
  
Warrick stepped onto the stonewall and pointed his flashlight on the grass area between the playground and the trees. He announced, "I can't make out any footprints."  
  
Nick was taking pictures of the sand around them. "I've got some here. Three small little ones and one big one."  
  
"Shoeprints or footprints?" Emily asked, leaning over to examine the sand. "Lizzie wasn't wearing shoes," she repeated.  
  
"Two of them look like shoes. One doesn't," Nick said. "Are you sure she wasn't wearing shoes?"  
  
"Her mother said that she was wearing white sandals but I saw them on the back porch." Emily looked around and said, "It's going to rain."  
  
"Let's get a mold of these, shall we?" Nick smiled. He expertly mixed up a concoction of paste and poured it into the footprints. The paste hardened after four minutes and they were blessed with three distinct shoe marks and one footprint.  
  
Warrick made a call to Brass to share the news of a possible second crime scene. The three CSIs followed their trail back to the vehicle. Emily stopped to look around one more time before she got into the Tahoe.  
  
  
  
Obviously, I don't know the slightest thing about crime scenes. :) No romance this time!! Next time, I promise. 


	12. Confession

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: This has only a tad of romance. Just a tad. :) But, next chapter will hopefully have more. Sadly enough, you have to read this first to understand the next one. HA! Sorry, I'm feeling vindictive: the Gators are losing.  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Archive: Please don't.  
  
Feedback: Please do.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve: Confession  
  
Greg tapped his feet on the floor of the DNA lab and rubbed his temples with his fingers. The weather change in the past few days had caused a severe, ongoing sinus headache with him. The rain had swept in on Tuesday and now refused to cease. He watched the gray machine in front of him hum and remain still. Yes, nothing interesting was going down in DNA.  
  
He looked behind him to see if Emily was walking through the hallway. Despite their current living situation, he was not seeing as much of her as he desired. Grissom was allowing her to put in some overtime now, and she was using it to her full advantage. She came in at seven at night, same as Greg did, but left anywhere from ten to noon the next day. Tuesday was slowly turning into a child of separated parents. Greg would go home during break and her water would be refilled; other times, he would come home and be greeted by a whining puppy, waiting to be taken outside. Whenever they were together, he tried to find out what was going on but she had rushed replies for him. At work, Greg had heard some rumors about a missing child case, a case that just had a bunch of dead-ends in it, and he had a gut feeling that Emily was becoming deeply involved.  
  
He saw Catherine walk by the lab and he leapt from his seat. He skidded out the door and called, "Hey, Catherine!"  
  
Catherine turned around and offered a polite smile. "Hey, Greg. How's the DNA from the shirt coming?"  
  
"It's almost done. I was-"  
  
"C'mon, Greg," Catherine frowned. "I need to solve this case before I go on vacation."  
  
Greg frowned back and asked, "Is Emily still on that missing child case?"  
  
"Yeah," Catherine replied absentmindedly, looking down at the paper she was carrying.  
  
"Any news on the kid?"  
  
"She hasn't told you anything about it?" she asked, looking up at him briefly.  
  
"No." He refrained from going into details.  
  
"Well, yeah, she's still on it," Catherine shrugged. "Working hard, too, I guess. She's always down with Brass or at the crime scenes."  
  
"Scenes?"  
  
"Yeah. The house, the playground, and I think now they're looking in the woods behind the playground. They found footprints there, too," Catherine sighed. She scratched her forehead and said, "But that was yesterday. Listen, Greg, can you get me those results as soon as they come in?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
She smiled and waved, heading down the hall to Layout Room Two, where Sara was looking over the evidence collected from the robbery-homicide so far. Greg stood in the hallway for a moment, just thinking, before he headed down the hallway to the connecting police department. If Emily was hanging around Brass a lot, he wanted to find out what was so interesting.  
  
He found it quickly. It was a bulletin board, about 36" by 48", hanging on the hallway past the employee break room and past Brass' office. It was in the section of the department where only employees could walk. It was covered with newspaper clippings and pictures. Some words and key phrases were highlighted. In the upper left hand corner, three names graced a small piece of paper: Christopher Malone, Kendall Smith, and Elizabeth Coleman. Next to the names were the dates of their disappearance and, next to that, was the same word: MISSING. Christopher was MISSING, Kendall was MISSING, and Elizabeth was MISSING.  
  
It was the missing children board. The police department employees were asked to turn in any articles to the Missing Person Unit. This was where the articles found their way after being perused. Greg leaned against the opposite wall, staring at the bulletin board. So this was where Emily got lost every day, staring at the board, looking for more clues, hoping that, just maybe, she could find something no else had seen yet.  
  
He checked his watch. It was 11:13 p.m. Emily was nowhere to be seen and neither were her co-conspirators, Nick and Warrick. She must be out on the field, Greg thought. He reluctantly returned to the DNA lab, resigned to finding out whose DNA was on Catherine's shirt.  
  
Greg checked the clock continually as the night wore on. He saw Nick and Warrick go by a few times, but never were they with Emily. He stopped by Layout Room One to find her. He almost asked Grissom but didn't want to get him worried or get Emily in trouble. He saw Sara around two o'clock and stopped her.  
  
"Sara, have you seen Emily?"  
  
"No. I heard Nick say that she went on break, though." Sara took a sip of her water bottle. "Why?"  
  
"I'm trying to find her."  
  
"How are things going?"  
  
"Sara, we've discussed this."  
  
She sighed and said, "I'm just wondering, that's all. Catherine said you haven't talked to her in a while and I thought you'd like to know what's going on. They found the kid, Greg."  
  
"The little girl?"  
  
"Yeah. Lizzie." Sara watched his eyes before continuing, "Nick and Warrick are pretty upset. I can only imagine Emily-"  
  
"Where did they find her?" The anger was evident in his voice and stance. He tensed up and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
"In a man's backyard about five miles from her home. Buried behind a shed. I heard Emily found the clues to lead them to it. They're bringing him in soon. You may want to find Emily so she can be there." Sara paused before leaning forward and resting her hand on his arm. "Go find her, Greg." She squeezed his arm once and walked away.  
  
Greg turned back to the DNA lab. He shed his lab coat and grabbed his regular jacket. He flew out of the crime lab, brushing by Grissom on the way. He heard Grissom say something and Greg yelled, "I'm going on break!" as he exited the building. He didn't remember the ride to their apartment; he didn't recall traffic lights or other vehicles. He stopped his car in his designated spot and observed Emily's car two spots down. He got out of the car and looked up. All the lights were off in the apartment. He ducked his head down as he jogged across the sidewalk in the drizzle.  
  
Upstairs, he pulled out his keys and slipped the small silver one into the lock. He twisted it and the door effortlessly opened. He frowned at the apartment door. She always locked the door. He stepped inside slowly. All the lights were off. He saw Tuesday stretched out of the floor, asleep. He stepped over her and headed for the back of the apartment, to the bedrooms.  
  
She sat in the darkness of her bedroom, staring blankly out the window. The downpour outside drowned out her thoughts. She needed to leave for work in a few minutes if she didn't want people wondering if she had really gone to Lamdey's Café or not. Greg would probably ask, anyway. On the few occasions she was seeing him lately, he was asking a lot of questions. Questions she always managed to dodge. True, she wasn't acting as optimistic as usual, but there were too many murdered lovers and cold- blooded killers and missing children. How could she possible be happy?  
  
"Em?"  
  
She jumped at the sound and turned her head. Greg was standing in her doorway, a concerned expression on his face. "The front door was unlocked. Someone could've... Are you okay?"  
  
She nodded and said, "Yeah. Just thinking."  
  
He hesitated at the doorway before cautiously stepping inside. He rested his knees on the side of the bed nearest the door and stretched himself out across the mattress so that his head rested near her legs. He gently touched her back with his hand and said, "Tell me."  
  
"Have you ever been out on the field?" she asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you like it?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "I was a mess though. I almost screwed up the investigation." He ducked his head in order to rest his forehead against the side of her leg. Her hand came off her leg and rested on the side of his head, her fingers weaving into his hair. "A witness had like a seizure or a heart attack or something and I froze. It was embarrassing." He shifted a little and frowned. "Why do you ask?"  
  
She shook her head and glanced down at him quickly. "No reason."  
  
"Bull shit."  
  
She cleared her throat and said, "I need to get back." She started to stand.  
  
He threw his arm around her waist and pulled her down. "No. Not until you explain to me what's up."  
  
Emily's glare was almost enough to make him let her go but her eyes relented, and she fell back onto the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and said, "They found her."  
  
"Yeah, Sara told me."  
  
She propped herself up on her elbows and said, "I didn't expect this, when I decided to be a forensic scientist. I didn't expect to talk to victims and relatives." She twisted her body so that their heads were close together on the bed. "How can someone kill a little girl?"  
  
Greg let out a lungful of air and reached for her hand. "I don't know, Emily. He's obviously sick and-"  
  
"I didn't find her soon enough."  
  
The words hung in the air for only a mere second before Greg jumped on them. "No, Emily, you did all you could do. No one ever guessed there would be more than one place to look. You helped that little girl and her family more than you could ever know."  
  
"She must've been so scared," she whispered, tears starting to seep from her eyes.  
  
He nodded and took her hand in his. "I know." He scooted closer to her and laid next to her as she cried. He just looked at her face, unsure of how else to comfort her than just staying.  
  
When her cries subsided, he leaned forward and kissed her fleetingly. He sat up and ran his thumbs over her cheeks, drying her skin. After a minute or two and shied away and sat up. "Stop; I'm splotchy."  
  
He chuckled. "You're what?"  
  
"Splotchy. I get splotchy when I cry." She wiped at her face with the backs of her hands and glared at him. "Stop laughing."  
  
He raised his eyebrows and hands in defense. "I'm not laughing."  
  
She pursed her lips before lunging across the bed. He laughed, and so did she, as she tried to keep him down. It was a futile attempt and he easily flipped her onto her back. He rested on top of her and held her hands above her head with just one of his. His left hand danced lightly across her side and an honest, full-fledged laugh came out of her mouth. He continued his tickling assault on her until tears showed at the corners of her eyes. "Stop, Greg! Stop!" His hand rested momentarily and she frowned. "I can't be upset and sad when you're making me laugh."  
  
He lowered his head and said, "I'll drive you back to work."  
  
She shook her head and objected, "I may stay-"  
  
He shook his head back at her and released her hands from his grasp. "Nope." He pushed himself up but didn't get off of her. "No overtime."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
He paused before answering. She would either take his reply badly or she would be pleased. "I haven't seen you in a while. You're always running in and out or we miss each other by five minutes. I... miss you."  
  
She stared up at him with a surprised expression. Finally, a smile spread across her lips. She nodded. "All right." He got off the bed and held out his hand to help her up. She gathered her jacket and purse and they left quietly. Greg drove back to the crime lab, his hand resting on her hand, next to her leg.  
  
They entered the police department silently. They did not head to the crime lab; instead, they walked toward Brass' office. Emily reached forward and held on gently to his pinkie finger. They ignored the other people in the halls.  
  
A woman was standing in front of the bulletin board. She was hurriedly pulling out thumbtacks, putting the paper in a file, and dropping the thumbtack in a container. Greg and Emily slowed down as they reached the bulletin board and stood against the opposite wall. The woman turned and said, "Hey, this is employees only back here."  
  
"We work at the crime lab," Greg explained. He pulled his ID out of his pocket and showed her. She nodded and turned to Emily. She took her ID out of her purse and clipped it onto her belt loop. The woman glared at the blonde and turned back to her work. She took down three more articles and gathered her things. She nodded at Greg and left, leaving a large portion of blank corkboard behind.  
  
"It's all gone. It's like she never existed," Emily sighed.  
  
Greg nodded. He observed the board quietly for a few more moments before tugging on her hand. He pressed his lips against her temple and whispered, "C'mon. They're interrogating the perp."  
  
She nodded and allowed Greg to lead her away. She turned her head one last time before they turned the corner and narrowed in on the upper left hand corner. The word next to Elizabeth Coleman now read DEAD.  
  
  
  
Okay, that's all. I had to end it on a sad note because Miami just scored ANOTHER touchdown and the score is now 34 to 16... My poor Gators :(  
  
Oh, and I'll try to update as soon as possible with a Sara/Grissom chapter. 


	13. Found

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: My creative juices apparently froze for almost two weeks. :) Have no fear; G/S romance is here (along with some extra Greg/Emily action). WooHoo! I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Archive: Please don't.  
  
Feedback: Please!!  
  
  
  
Chapter Thirteen: Found  
  
The cramp in her neck was enough to make her cry. Every time she tilted her head even in the slightest, a shock of pain went blazing down her spine and up to her brain. The night had been going on for years, it seemed, as she was getting nowhere searching through the missing persons database. She reached for her Styrofoam cup of coffee but remembered that the last time she had taken a sip it had been tepid. She pushed it further back on the desk with her fingertips and sighed. The words on the screen blurred for a few moments and she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. When she was done rubbing, she opened her eyes, blinked a few more times, and saw Grissom standing in the doorway.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey," he said. He looked at her with an amused look and said, "You know, you remind me of someone."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Who?"  
  
"Sara."  
  
Emily turned her head swiftly and her eyes bugged out at the pain. She leaned forward and raised her hand to her neck. She grudgingly rubbed her neck and asked, "Why's that?"  
  
"What's wrong with your neck?"  
  
"Cramp. Why do I remind you of Sara?"  
  
He entered the room and pulled up an empty chair. "She spent hours here one night, just looking for one name. I think she still does sometimes and just hides it from the rest of us." He cleared his throat and asked, "Who are you looking for?"  
  
"A Hispanic woman, approximately 35 years in age, five two, 106 pounds."  
  
"Catherine's case."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So why are you in here looking for her?"  
  
Emily turned her entire body toward him and replied, "Everyone deserves to be found."  
  
Grissom gazed back at her. She took her lower lip into her mouth before turning back to the computer. He had walked by an hour earlier and had seen her in the small room, a cup of coffee in hand, sitting on her legs, looking more refreshed than she was looking now. She wasn't working on a case at the moment; he had sentenced her to working on her thesis paper and doing paper work for him. He respected her determination to be a help to the team.  
  
"Have you decided what to write your paper on?"  
  
"Yes, sir." She sneezed lightly twice. "Excuse me. The title is 'Solving Crimes in Las Vegas.'" His eyebrows raised and she turned in her chair in time to see his expression. "I knew you'd like it." She offered him a genuine smile and continued, "I've written three pages. I'm still doing research. All your paperwork is sitting on your desk calendar."  
  
"Sounds like you're ahead of the game."  
  
"Call it my singular flaw as a living nervous wreck."  
  
Grissom watched her eyes scan the screen for a few more minutes before proceeding. "I don't want to you think I'm lecturing you, Emily, because I am not. I'm merely curious." He paused until he received her full attention. "What do you see yourself doing next year?"  
  
She stared blankly at him for several seconds before shrugging. She pulled the sleeves of gray sweatshirt down from her elbows to her hands and sighed. "A lot of things, I guess. I hope to have a job doing what I like. I-"  
  
"What do you like?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"What do you like to do?"  
  
"This," she frowned.  
  
"So many people enter this profession lacking heart. They were pushed into the position, their parents applied pressure, chemistry was easy to them... There are so many reasons you could be unhappy."  
  
"I am happy here," she replied. "If I wasn't happy, I wouldn't be putting forth an extra effort." He nodded and waited for her to continue. She hesitantly said, "Um, I don't know where I'll be. Somewhere warm," she smiled. "With Tuesday. Near my sister and brothers. In pre-marital bliss, hopefully."  
  
"With Greg?"  
  
"No. Yes. Wait, well, I don't know." She frowned and rubbed her neck with her hand again. "I'm not certain. I haven't thought about it. We're not even... dating, I don't think."  
  
Grissom nodded and asked, "How's that working out?"  
  
"Living with Greg? Pretty well. It's working out pretty nicely with my bank account and I feel safer with him there. My dad's not too thrilled with the arrangement." Her smile made him smile back. "I'm sorry, Grissom, but is there any particular reason you're asking?"  
  
"No," he shook his head. "I was just wondering." He stood and pushed the extra chair against the wall. "As soon as you find what you're looking for, go home. There's nothing left to do here." He squeezed her shoulder and exited the cramped room. Emily turned back to the computer.  
  
He followed the familiar path back to his office. It was three in the morning and he was tired. Few souls walked the corridors beside him. He entered his office and flipped through the paperwork she had completed. Everything was completed and in order. He left the papers there and headed down to the break room. Sara, Nick, and Greg were there; Warrick and Catherine were at their crime scene. Nick and Greg were sitting in front of the television, playing a heated game of Grand Theft Auto III. Sara was lying on the other couch, flipping through Grissom's crossword puzzle book with a pencil in hand.  
  
The scene was familiar in the middle of the night. There were plenty of times in the middle of the week when his team finished their reports and were not required to be at a crime scene.  
  
Nick glanced up and said, "Hey boss."  
  
Sara looked over and smiled. Grissom smiled back and said, "Nick, Greg, you're free for the night."  
  
Nick hit the pause button and Greg glared at his competitor. "Really, Griss?" Grissom nodded. Nick ended the game promptly.  
  
"Hey!" Nick ignored Greg's outburst and stood to leave. Greg jumped up and followed him out of the room. "I was winning!"  
  
Grissom turned to Sara. She frowned. "I'm not free to leave?"  
  
"If an assignment arises, I will need another hand, you know." He approached the couch and sat on the end where her head was near. "Is that my crossword puzzle book?"  
  
"Yeah," she said. "You didn't know that the eight letter word for 'banter' was 'repartee?'"  
  
Grissom leaned slightly over her head and looked at 42-Across. "Apparently not."  
  
"You're slipping." She lightly penciled in the word. "Oh, you see, it even fits with 'zeal' and 'militant.'" She looked at him upside down and asked, "Where've you been?"  
  
"Talking with Emily."  
  
"Is something wrong with her?"  
  
"No." He picked up a discarded copy of the previous day's newspaper and said, "She was looking through the missing person's databank."  
  
"It's a popular place to go." He sensed a smile even though he could not see her face.  
  
"I asked her about her future and where she saw herself in a year."  
  
Sara put the puzzle book down and sat up. "Did you ask her to come here?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you considering?"  
  
Grissom glanced over at her concerned expression. "Would you be angry if I was?"  
  
"No," she scoffed. "I think it would be good. Greg would be thrilled."  
  
"Good. I am considering it, by the way."  
  
Sara nodded slowly. She looked around the room and said, "C'mon, this place smells like stale food." She took the newspaper and put it back on the table. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. They walked to his office, not holding hands.  
  
Inside, he turned on the light and she shut the door. She turned the lock and he turned to her. "What are you doing?"  
  
She came to stand in front of him and put her hands on the waistband of his slacks. "I realized how much I regret not taking advantage of you in 'Cisco." She grinned and moved her fingers to his belt buckle, deftly undoing it. "I've decided to never hesitate again." She kissed the corner of his mouth gently. "Do you realize how much we missed?"  
  
Grissom gently pushed her back against the door. The blinds were drawn and there were no noises in the hallway. He stared her in the eye and said, "We can't let another opportunity fade away."  
  
Sara pursed her lips and nodded. As his lips found a sensitive spot on her neck, she whispered, "I'm glad you kept me around tonight." She pulled his head up to kiss him. The pressure applied by both of them was enough to get their hearts racing. Grissom allowed the kissing to continue for a few minutes before he pulled her toward the back of his office where a slightly uncomfortable black couch rested.  
  
At the other end of the crime lab, Emily was slumped over the keyboard, propping her head up with her left hand. Her blank stare had not gone away; she was making no progress whatsoever. She was almost through the entire databank. Catherine would not be too happy with the lack of progress in identifying her victim.  
  
"Hey babe."  
  
Greg was leaning into the small room, a playful grin on his face. Her spirits lifted when she saw him. "Hey. What are you doing over here?"  
  
"Not much," he replied. He entered the room and sat on the table. "Grissom let me out early."  
  
"Oh, yeah, he told me I could leave too."  
  
"And you haven't left yet?"  
  
"I was waiting for you."  
  
Her sweet smile didn't fool him. "Yeah right." He reached for her hand and pulled her out of her chair. He pulled her into his personal space and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck and whispered, "C'mon, let's go home."  
  
"Greg, do you miss me?" The teasing lilt of her voice did not go unnoticed.  
  
"What? It's been two weeks since I said that and I've seen you for more than five minutes every day since." He smiled. "Of course." She smiled back, and then winced. "What's wrong?" he frowned.  
  
"My neck hurts." He moved herself so that her back was facing him. He scooted back and pulled her down so that she was sitting on the table too. His hands adeptly moved across the back of her neck, easing all the tension it possessed. She closed her eyes and dropped her head. She moaned, "That feels so good. This is what I've been needing all night."  
  
Greg concentrated for a few more minutes on the task at hand before looking over at the computer. "Emily, I don't think you're going to find her name."  
  
Emily sat up straight and nodded. "I know." She leaned back against him. "I'm ready to leave."  
  
He pressed his lips against her right temple and said, "Let's go get your stuff."  
  
She took two steps to the left and turned off the computer. Before he could slide off the table, she stood in front of him. She smiled at his confused expression. She dipped her head and whispered in his left ear, "I'll give you a massage when we get home." She cupped his head in her left hand and kissed him. She swiftly took the kiss to a more heated level before he even had the chance to respond. He returned the kiss. He had only been honored with kissing her a few times since that night she had agreed to move in and none of those times had been with such force. Now, he was getting a taste of what she held for him. He loved her lips and her tongue and her mouth; he loved how she tasted, how she smiled, how her skin smelled pressed against his nose.  
  
It was with great reluctance that they ended the kiss. When they separated, she whispered, "That felt really good."  
  
"See what you miss when you're not around?"  
  
She offered him a warm smile and slipped her fingers through his. As she pulled him off the table, she said, "I promise to be around a lot more."  
  
  
  
I hope you liked it! :) But, you know, the only way I'll know if you liked it is if you tell me... :) I'll try to update soon. 


	14. First Time

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: This story as a whole was originally intended to be 2/3 Greg/Emily and 1/3 Grissom/Sara. It's converted into a half and half kind of story. I need to get back on track, so hopefully the G/S story line will simmer down a little.  
  
Disclaimer: Emily and Phil Novelhin (remember him from Chapter Two?) are mine and so is Leonardo's (I feel like a little kid saying something is "mine"). Other than that, everything belongs to all the names that flash on the television screen at the beginning and end of the show.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for some... stuff at the end :)  
  
Archive: Please don't!  
  
Feedback: ...means a lot to me :)  
  
  
  
Chapter Fourteen: First Time  
  
Emily's eyes darted up to the wall to check the clock again. Time, she had decided, traveled slowly on Saturday mornings. In four minutes she could officially leave the tech office, convince Greg to leave, and go home. Her thesis, the one she had started as a minor joke, had morphed into a time-consuming disease. Grissom had noticed her aversion to forming research papers and his order of her working on her paper and doing menial filing duties had become official at 1:34 that morning after her return from a crime scene with Nick. Being a young adult, she had argued the implication and rationale behind the decision, only to receive a stern look in return. An apology had swiftly slipped from her lips and she had slinked into the tech office.  
  
Emily yawned and looked back at the computer screen. Five pages of different cases, different theories, and different techniques stared back at her. She glared at it. A flash of black caught her eye and she looked up.  
  
Conrad Ecklie stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb as he had done seven weeks earlier. She stared at him with wary eyes and tried hard not to let her emotions show too much. "Hello, Emily."  
  
She didn't respond. She merely observed as he moved into the room and shut the door. Her body tensed immediately. She quickly hit the small picture of a disk in the upper left hand corner of her document and wiggled her toes in her boots as the computer saved her paper to her floppy disk. She glanced up at the clock. 6:58. Her eyes moved to the glass walls. No one.  
  
"How's the graveyard shift, Emily?"  
  
"It's good." Her voice was timid and meek and she knew it. She sat up straight and replied more forcefully, "It's going well. I'm learning a lot about crime scene investigation."  
  
"Rumor is you're learning a lot more than that."  
  
Emily's eyes narrowed instantly. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I've heard whispers about you and a certain person at the lab," Ecklie mentioned calmly, as though it was an unimportant topic he had just happened to remember. "Someone..." He sat on the desk next to hers. "Older."  
  
"Everyone here is older than me." She refused to be reeled into whatever trick he was planning.  
  
He lowered his eyes to her chest where a UCF emblem graced her sweatshirt. "I just don't think your precious university would be to thrilled the know that their prized student is all play and no work."  
  
Emily clenched her jaw as she removed the disk from the computer. "Too bad it's not the truth."  
  
Ecklie stood up as she stood up and used his height to intimidate her. "Too bad UCF's on the other side of the country and has no way to know what the truth really is."  
  
The twenty-two year old didn't blink as the older man stared into her eyes. She had no reply; she could not form a retort quickly. The insecure feeling that swept over her whenever Ecklie was around was in full swing. She reminded herself to thank Greg profusely for the night he had intervened.  
  
Emily promptly stepped around him and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Ecklie, if I offended you for leaving the day shift. I'm sorry for any inconvenience I've caused you but I do not see how reporting false statements to my school could further your career." She shrugged and opened the door before he could counter.  
  
As she walked down the hallway, a smile swept across her face. She had stood her own. She entered the DNA lab and saw Greg looking into a microscope. He looked up and said, "Hey. What are you smiling about?"  
  
She almost told him, she was very close, but it dawned on her what his reaction may be. She just sighed and leaned against the counter. "Did I ever thank you for that night when Ecklie was in the tech office with me?"  
  
"Yeah," Greg frowned. "You did that night. Why?"  
  
She shook her head. "I just saw him walking down the hallway and I thought about how great you are." She nodded at the microscope. "Anything interesting?"  
  
"Arsenic."  
  
"From?"  
  
"Sara's case," Greg replied. He put the sample away and said, "But I'm ready to leave."  
  
"Me, too," she grinned.  
  
He shrugged off his lab coat and asked, "What are you doing tonight?"  
  
"Working."  
  
"You have Saturdays off."  
  
"I'm bartending tonight," she elucidated. "Why?"  
  
He frowned and said, "Nothing." He squeezed her hand and repeated, "Nothing." He avoided her doubtful look and led her out of the lab. Emily remembered Ecklie's words and dropped Greg's hand. They walked down the halls to the front of the building. On the way, they passed Grissom's office. Emily saw him sitting at his desk, on the phone, and she rapped on the window as she walked by. He looked up and smiled. She waved through the window and he waved back.  
  
Grissom stretched his arms above his head and said, "Phil, there is no reason to agonize. Emily's doing fine."  
  
"Is she working on her thesis?"  
  
"I sentenced her to doing research for the next few nights. There will be no crime scenes until she's made progress."  
  
"You sound like the professor you used to be."  
  
Grissom nodded and tapped his pen on his desk. "She's a probably addition to the unit, Phil."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I've been tossing the idea of adding another criminalist to the unit for a couple of weeks now. The day shift has one more than the night shift. Emily could be the one. But you know, Phil, just as well as I do, that she has to be in the top ten students of the graduating forensic science major for us to even consider her. I'm getting about three letters a day of students who are in the top spot and want to come here."  
  
"I know, Gil. We're just proud that she's interning there."  
  
A sly smile slipped on Grissom's face. "Well, she may want to come back."  
  
"You being that nice?" Phil stirred his cup of coffee and surveyed his dark office. The clutter was severely chaotic at best. He made a mental note to clean before his first appointment arrived at 6:45 that morning.  
  
"One of the lab technicians is."  
  
"You're letting Emily converse with a mangy lab techs?"  
  
"Greg, our DNA lab tech."  
  
Phil sighed and said, "I thought you were working her hard, Gil."  
  
"She was putting in almost as much overtime as my biggest workaholic. She stopped that a few weeks ago."  
  
"Burn out?"  
  
"Greg."  
  
Phil chuckled and said, "That's splendid. I send her to the best lab in the country and she falls in love."  
  
Grissom looked up and spotted Nick and Catherine walking down the hall with boxes. He said, "I have to go, Phil. I'll call you within the next couple of weeks and let you know how things are progressing."  
  
"Take care."  
  
Grissom hung up and went down to Layout Room Three. He pulled a double shift that day, along with Nick and Sara. It was six hours later before he ordered Nick and Sara to leave. Nick complied readily but Sara only agreed if she could go pick up some lunch and pick him up in half an hour. He nodded tiredly and she disappeared.  
  
Thirty-seven minutes later, they were both in Grissom's Tahoe, heading for his townhouse. The smell of rich Italian food permeated the air of the vehicle. Sara was describing the mob scene at Leonardo's bar, where drinkers and customers waiting on their to-go lunch orders were located.  
  
"I saw Emily showing up when I was leaving."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," Sara mumbled, switching lanes. "I said hello." She shot Grissom a quick look. "I was cordial."  
  
"Imagine that," he teased.  
  
"No seafood pasta for you."  
  
"Seafood?" he asked, his left eyebrow rising.  
  
"Seafood is not in my meat category," she grinned. "Hey, there are four oceans full of crustaceans and fish for the world's eating pleasure. Besides, it's healthy to eat seafood."  
  
"What else did you get?"  
  
"Some fettuccini alfredo, bread, and this dish I thought you would like."  
  
"All that other food is for you?"  
  
She ignored him and said, "It consists of steak, chicken, and shrimp, I think. It's all barbecued with mixed vegetables."  
  
He leaned over the console and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."  
  
She smiled and found her way to his townhouse. They dined on the couch, watching the Indiana Jones movies on the television. It was about three o'clock when Grissom lapsed into sleep. Sara quietly put the dishes away and grabbed a book from the bookshelf. She nestled herself against Grissom and read until she fell into a light sleep. They woke about around six and went back to the crime lab at seven. Grissom, Catherine, Sara, Warrick, and Nick worked, with Emily and Greg having the night off.  
  
Emily got home from work on Saturday just before eleven p.m. The only light was the eerie glow of the television screen. Greg was sitting on the leather couch, the one she had brought from her old apartment, the one he claimed was now his favorite. ESPN Sports Center was on, something about basketball. She didn't say a word as she set the Leonardo's bag on the kitchen counter. She walked down the hallway and entered her bedroom. She changed into cotton shorts and a tank top. She grabbed the novel she was reading, Snow Falling On Cedars, and walked out to the living room.  
  
His tired form, not at all upright, was on the left side of the couch, leaning against the armrest, with his legs on the middle cushion. He wore a white T-shirt that looked to have shrunk in the wash: his arms, chest, and shoulder muscles were slightly visible through the thin cotton. Blue flannel pants donned his legs. His hair stuck out in all possible directions. He looked extremely focused on the newscast but she knew he was listening to her standing by the couch.  
  
She walked up to the couch and sat on the middle cushion. She held her book firmly in her right hand. She pulled her legs onto the couch, leaning against his right side to do so. He raised his right arm and rested in on the back on the couch. She stayed where she was, tucked against his side, and rested her head against his chest. She placed the book next to her bent knees and moved her right hand to lie against his left side. Her fingers found a spot of skin and she delicately laid her fingertips just above his hip. In return, his right arm came down to rest on her right arm. His fingers methodically, meticulously massaged her upper arm. She concentrated on his touch but spaciously observed the news for several minutes before she heard the tale of a murder trial calling her name. She propped herself up with her left hand to find her book. She picked it up and scooted further down the couch. She laid on the couch, resting her head on his lap, placing the book on his right knee.  
  
About ten minutes later, she murmured, "I brought you some food."  
  
"Thanks. I can smell it."  
  
"It's probably me. I smell like beer and garlic and smoke."  
  
Greg rested his hand on her head and massaged her scalp. He replied, "You smell good."  
  
She rolled onto her back and glanced at the page number, number 174, and put the book down. She looked up at him and said, "Do you realize I'm going home in five weeks?"  
  
Greg silently turned off the television. He looked down at her and didn't reply. She reached up with her right hand and skimmed her fingers over the stubble on his chin. She focused on his bone structure. After almost a full minute of undivided attention, Greg asked, "Why did you bring that up?"  
  
"I just wanted to make sure you knew."  
  
"You thought I'd forget?"  
  
She shrugged in response. "I just wanna know how you feel about it."  
  
He captured her hand against his jaw. "I'm not happy." He moved it to his mouth and he gently kissed her fingertips. She watched with rapt interest. He put his right hand underneath her back and pulled her up. He looked at her with sad eyes and said, "I wish back every minute that passes."  
  
She sighed and leaned forward. He kissed her back and held her against his chest. She shifted so that she was sitting in his lap. She took control of the situation and explored his tongue and lips with free reign. It wasn't before long that he pushed her back on the couch cushions. She grunted at the sudden weight of his body on top of her before wrapping her left arm around his rib cage and holding his head with her right hand.  
  
Greg lowered his lips to her collarbone and murmured, "Are you happy?"  
  
"About leaving?" She looked down at him and his eyes flickered up to hers. "No." He rested his chin just above the neckline of her tank top. She delved her slender fingers into his hair and rubbed small circles onto his head. "So let's make the most of what's left." He raised his eyebrows and she giggled. "C'mon." She pushed against his chest until he was kneeling on the couch. She slid out from under him and stood on the floor.  
  
Emily kissed him and grabbed his hand. She pulled him blindly toward the bedrooms. He quickly realized what was to come and followed eagerly. With all four eyes closed, they promptly bumped into a wall. "Ow!" Emily laughed, rubbing the back of her head. Greg laughed too and picked her up, pinning her against the wall and his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and muttered, "I'm okay now" against his lips.  
  
He carried her into his bedroom without any further violent assault on her body. He hesitated slightly when he realized that she really was lying on his bed, waiting for him; sex would change everything. But she just grinned and grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him down to her.  
  
  
  
That's it for now. I hope you liked it. Please give me some reviews! :) 


	15. Silence Is Best

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: What do an elephant and a grape have in common? They're both purple, except for the elephant. :) I heard that today. :) Just wanted to share.  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for sexual content  
  
Feedback: If you feedback me, I'll feedback you... :)  
  
  
  
Chapter Fifteen: Silence Is Best  
  
The sunlight streamed through the blinds in divided beams. The contrast of the light with the dark colors of the bedroom was disturbingly poetic. The walls were a dark mocha color, the comforter was hunter green with midnight blue pinstripes, the tiles were dark taupe, and the accent color was maroon. In the middle of the boudoir, two adults laid slain on the blue sheets.  
  
Emily stood behind Grissom, looking over his shoulder. Nick stood slightly behind her. Brass was next to the bed, peering over the husband's shoulder into the wife's face. He glanced over at the investigators and said, "James and Donna Glover. 47 and 46 years of age, respectively. The daughter found them around 4 o'clock this morning. Both were shot at point- blank range in the chest."  
  
"Where's the daughter?"  
  
"Den."  
  
"I'm on it, boss," Nick stated.  
  
"No, Nick, thanks," Grissom shook his head. "I'll do it. You stay here with Emily." Emily turned her head and playfully narrowed her eyes at her supervisor's protective tone. He just smiled and walked out of the bedroom.  
  
Nick moved past Emily and said, "All right, I'm the designated babysitter so I get to make the rules." Brass chuckled and exited the room as well. Emily put her silver case down and put her hands on her hips. "No yelling, no whining, no TV, no dessert, and you only get a sticker if you're good."  
  
"Are you done?" she asked, raising her left eyebrow.  
  
He hesitated before kneeling down by the headboard. "Did you have a good time on Saturday?"  
  
A bewildered laugh escaped her blushed lips. "Excuse me?"  
  
Nick winked at her. "You know what I'm talking about."  
  
She opened her mouth to speak but forgot her words. She looked at his crouched form and slowly reached up to feel the camera around her neck. She approached the bed and took a picture of the couple. She looked down at her partner and asked, "Why did you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" Nick grunted, shining his flashlight against the baseboard. "Bring up your night with Greg?" He turned to look at her and grinned. "I wanted a rise out of you. And, obviously, I received one." He shrugged, "You're easy."  
  
"Thanks," she replied sarcastically.  
  
"All jokes aside," Nick continued. "You okay?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"  
  
"You never like to give me a straight answer, do you?"  
  
She grinned and said, "I'm fine."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, it's a big step. And you're leaving soon..."  
  
"That's not why I did it," she frowned. She took two more pictures and said, "I like him. A lot. I didn't do it because I'm going to miss him or because he wanted me to. I mean, I am going to miss him like hell. But my reasons were good enough for me. Did Greg say something about it to you?"  
  
"Okay, one, you babble," Nick smiled. "Two, all he said was it happened."  
  
She sighed. "Ugh, he told you."  
  
"That's been the unspoken rule at the crime lab. Greg, Warrick, and I tell each other when we get... when we are intimate with a lady." He grinned triumphantly at her.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "So when you guys get some, you all just share? Grissom's a guy; how come he's not in the game?"  
  
"Grissom's the boss," Nick frowned. "Besides, we all knew when he and Sara got it on because of her."  
  
"Sara squealed?" Emily laughed, focusing the lens on the husband's chest.  
  
"Yeah," he smiled, standing up. "That's our Sara." He moved a strand of hair off the wife's neck with his gloved finger. "You got any theories?"  
  
"They were shot," she deadpanned. "You?"  
  
Nick looked around the room and said, "I don't see any visible signs of a break-in. Maybe the daughter did it?"  
  
"Motive?"  
  
He looked down at her form before saying, "Insurance money?"  
  
"That's pretty shitty if that's the real reason." Emily moved away from the bed to take pictures of the rest of the room. "Could you kill your parents if it meant you would get money?"  
  
"No." Nick removed a pair of tweezers from his kit and removed a piece of red hair from the bed sheets. "You?"  
  
"No." Emily knelt next to the bedroom door and shone her flashlight on a hair caught on the bottom of the door. She took a picture and said, "But not everyone's as law-abiding as us." She smiled at Nick and snapped his picture. "Let's find us a killer."  
  
In the den, Grissom was studying the daughter of the deceased. Her name was Maggie Glover. She was twenty years old and she was a second-year student at UNLV. She was about five nine, with pale skin and obviously dyed dark brown, curly hair.  
  
Brass sighed, "What were you doing at your parents' home at four o'clock in the morning?"  
  
Maggie wiped her cheeks and said, "I just moved out of my apartment. I was staying here until I found a new place to live."  
  
Grissom watched the girl's emotions and reactions with a studious frown. He couldn't tell if she was faking her distress or if she was honestly distraught. His mind raced. There were no signs of a forced entry or a struggle. Their alarm hadn't alerted the police station. Had the alarm even been on? Had Maggie come home alone? Were the parents on good terms with the daughter? How much was Donna and James' life insurance? Was it his imagination, or was Sara coming down with the flu?  
  
He shook his head at the sidetracked thought and exited the den. He peered into the bedroom, where Nick was jovially mocking Emily. He continued on his trek and stopped just outside the front door. He surveyed it for the second time. There was nothing to cause him to believe a break- in had occurred.  
  
Grissom sighed and stepped onto the gravel lawn. He began a cautious walk of the property. Nothing seemed out of place. He walked around to the screened-in pool and patio and sighed. The family was certainly well to do. The house was enormous and spacious; the patio was extensive; the pool looked like a miniature version of something one could find at a Disney Land water park. He continued on his trek over the rocks and gravel and shaded his eyes momentarily as a gust of wind blew up pieces of dust.  
  
It was in that moment, through his parted fingers, that Grissom noticed a flap of the black screen flailing in the wind. He closed in on the twenty yards between him and the enclosure and knelt down. The section was five feet by three feet, on the ground. He pulled two gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He touched the edge of the screen and pulled it toward him. A knife had obviously been used to get past the screen and onto the patio.  
  
"Grissom!"  
  
He looked up. Emily was walking toward him, stepping carefully over the shifty gravel. She squinted against the sun and knelt next to him. "What've you got?"  
  
"Someone broke into their house," Grissom said softly. Emily took the camera that hung from her neck into her hands and started taking pictures. "We need to check the patio doors."  
  
"Sure thing," she nodded. She took a couple more pictures and, before he could stand to go, she asked, "Did the daughter live with her parents?"  
  
"At the present time, yes," Grissom informed her, "but only temporarily."  
  
He left her, and her remaining questions, at the edge of the property. He entered the house through the front door and grabbed Nick from the kitchen, where he had been listening to the informal interrogation of the daughter. He shared the newfound information with his younger counterpart as they made their way to the French doors. "Someone used forced to enter through the screen. We need to look at the windows and doors now to see of any further break-ins."  
  
Nick took the far end of the house, nearer Emily, and Grissom remained by the main exit. He crept along every window and allowed his mind to lead him. Maybe the person broke in farthest from the master bedroom so there would be less noise. Maybe the perpetrator broke into the master bedroom for a sudden and quick attack. Was there any possible way to get to the second story windows from the patio floor? He looked up and studied the setting. Stacked chairs on the table could have allowed access to the second floor.  
  
Grissom went back into the house. He grabbed a spare camera from the kitchen table and walked up to the second story. He entered the room he believed to be overlooking the pool. He opened the door and smirked. An exercise room. A treadmill, a stationary bicycle, a set of weights, a punching bag, and a rowing machine all graced the room. He moved to the window and began snapping pictures. He paused for a moment and looked around. Sara was looking a little skinnier lately; was she working out a lot? He frowned and shook his head. He lifted the camera back to his eye. After he was done, he went to unlock the window.  
  
It was already unlocked. He took more pictures and opened the window. Sure enough, a strand of curly red hair was caught in the frame. He grinned and took another picture. After he placed the hair in a small yellow envelope, he called down, "Nick!"  
  
"Yeah, boss?" Nick was opening the porch door for Emily. The two approached the house and looked up.  
  
"I have a way of entry and a strand of hair."  
  
Nick grinned and Emily nodded up at him. Grissom called down, "Get Brass and tell him we need a warrant for the patio furniture at the lab. And that portion of the screen. I need you to look at the hair back at the lab, and Emily, I need you to dust the furniture." He disappeared from the window.  
  
"Right-o, boss," Nick muttered. He turned to Emily and said, "Have fun dusting... nine pieces of furniture."  
  
She gave him a dirty look and began to walk away. "What, no retort?" he taunted with a grin.  
  
As she stepped into the house, she turned her head and, with a grin, flicked him off.  
  
  
  
Hooray, another chapter is up! I really wanted to get two chapters at once this time BUT I have nine weeks exams this week. The next chapter is already half-written in my environmental science notebook (I do too pay attention in class!) so it shouldn't be that long. My fall break is next week so I'm aiming for four chapters to be up and going by October 20.  
  
I do have one question for you though: how do you want this to end? I would love to hear it. I'm kind of undecided in the Sara/Grissom department. Care to share? :) 


	16. Thrilled

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Thrilled  
  
  
  
"Quit it."  
  
A smile snaked onto Greg's lips. He sat on a bar stool in the DNA lab, watching Emily look into a microscope. She had just finished dusting the pool furniture from the Glover residence and was now checking out a sample from the bed sheets. She was tired, he could tell, and he couldn't help but bother her. Again, he nudged her calf with the toe of his shoe. Her eyebrow arched but she refused to look up. At her defiant lack of response, he did it again.  
  
"Cease and desist, loser."  
  
He grinned. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning and Grissom had flooded him with DNA samples just before his shift ended. And now, he sat here, waiting for the last result. Emily hadn't said much to him that morning save for her demands of his leaving her alone. He didn't mind the relative silence between them; it was nice.  
  
He watched her adjust the focus on the microscope. He chose that moment to jab her again: this time, behind the knee. She jumped up and whirled around to face him. "Greg!"  
  
He raised his arms, palms face up. "What?"  
  
She glowered at him and said, "Aren't you done yet?" He smiled disarmingly and she rolled her eyes. "Don't mess with me, Greg. I just dusted nine damn pieces of-"  
  
"Yes, how did you enjoy that?"  
  
Emily and Greg turned at the new voice. Greg raised his hand in greeting. "Hey Nick."  
  
"Hey," Nick returned. His eyes shifted to Emily. "Hey." He raised his eyebrows at her pointed glare. "Wow. Okay, so how's my DNA?" He rubbed his hands together. "Did you get a sample of the daughter's yet? I can feel it; it's her."  
  
"One, your DNA is right here," Greg said. He spun around in his chair and picked up a piece of paper.  
  
Nick frowned. "Thanks for paging me."  
  
"Always trying to help," Greg grinned. "Secondly, no, I do not have a sample from the daughter yet and-"  
  
"What? It's been four hours!" Emily smirked at Nick's outburst. She directed her attention to Greg and waited for his response.  
  
"And I haven't gotten it," Greg frowned. "I can't help that Brass is..." His voice trailed off as he saw Grissom and Sara approaching the DNA lab. He cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, hooray, it's XX."  
  
Nick nodded and said, "Okay, I'll go for that." He grabbed the paper and stood next to Emily. He leaned over and rested his elbows on the counter. "You know, Emily, I would've dusted that furniture for you."  
  
She turned her head to look at him and said, "Liar."  
  
"Wow, you're full of nasty things to say today!" Greg exclaimed.  
  
"Who's full of what?" Grissom asked, entering the room. Sara came in behind him and leaned against the doorframe with her eyes closed. All three younger individuals shook their heads. Emily turned off the microscope and shed her lab coat. She threw it at Greg and leaned against the opposite counter. Grissom shrugged at the lack of noise and said, "Greg, you're off the hook. No blood sample yet. We're still waiting on a warrant. Emily, AFIS is still plowing through the prints you lifted. You can go home."  
  
"How many did you get?" Nick questioned.  
  
"Six, but two were partials," she mumbled.  
  
"DNA results?" Grissom asked.  
  
"XX," Nick and Greg said in unison. They both looked at each other for a moment before turning back to their supervisor.  
  
"Good. Nick, tell Ecklie what's happening," Grissom directed. "We're handing this case to day shift."  
  
"Why?" Greg questioned.  
  
Sara pulled herself onto a countertop and groaned, "We're overloaded; they're not."  
  
"Good enough for me," Nick said. "I'll see you all later." He left for Ecklie's office.  
  
Emily put the sample back with the others and said, "See you tonight," to Grissom and Sara. She looked back at the door and asked, "You coming?"  
  
Greg nodded. Sara chuckled as Emily exited the room. Greg looked up at her. "What?"  
  
"Whipped."  
  
Greg shook his head, "You know, Sara, I always thought you were smart but you just keep forgetting that guy talk doesn't work on you."  
  
"Just want you to be aware," she coughed, covering her mouth with her hand.  
  
He shrugged and swept the room with his eyes one more time. "I don't care, Sara," he grinned. "I got my girl." He tapped the doorframe and said, "Till tonight! Bye, Grissom." He found Emily in the hallway. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Absolutely." They walked to the parking lot. In the lobby, with about fifteen people milling about, Emily snaked her foot out behind her in midstride and stuck it between Greg's ankles. His foot immediately caught on it and he stumbled forward. She stifled a laugh and continued walking, leaving a bewildered Greg a few steps behind her.  
  
In the parking lot, he came up next to her and grabbed her around the waist. "Very funny."  
  
"I'm a funny girl," she grinned. She wrapped her arm around his waist as well and said, "So, do you want to go to breakfast?"  
  
"Not after the stunt you just pulled," he smiled. She huffed and he pulled her a little closer. "I'll make you breakfast."  
  
"Greg, I don't want cereal."  
  
"Hey!" he scoffed, pretending to be offended. He withdrew his arm from her waist and said, "My cooking abilities surpass what you have seen."  
  
She laughed and came to a standstill next to his Jeep. "I can't wait to see them."  
  
He opened the door for her and smirked. "You'll be thrilled."  
  
"I already am," she smiled.  
  
That's it: a light-hearted, fluffy chapter. 


	17. Remnants of Your Wake

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
Chapter Seventeen: Remnants of Your Wake  
  
The gentle hum of the engine was the only sound in the SUV. The radio was off, as was the air conditioning system. The passenger window was slightly ajar and Sara's fingers were protruding out of it. She was facing the window, ignoring him, and shivering delicately.  
  
Grissom, for the most part, kept his eyes on the road. However, Sara's current condition called for his attention. His right hand deserted the two o'clock position on the steering wheel and cupped her left knee. She moved only a little. A few seconds later, her hand rested atop of his. Mere seconds after that, her voice broke through the silence.  
  
"Gil, pull over."  
  
"What?" he frowned.  
  
"Pull over," she demanded. Her right elbow slipped from the armrest of the door and she gripped the handle. He pulled into the neighborhood on the right and barely stopped the Tahoe before she opened the door. She leapt from the vehicle, walked ten feet, and emptied the contents of her stomach into a grouping of shrubs.  
  
Grissom turned the car off and hurried over to her. She stood hunched over, her hands on her knees. He gently rubbed her back and said, "You're okay, you're okay." She nodded at the grass, but Grissom could hear her sniffling. He kept a protective hand on her back and waited. Again, she threw up. She continued to dry heave. Grissom slipped away from her and grabbed a bottled water form the Tahoe.  
  
Sara was sitting on the sidewalk when he offered her the drink. She frowned at it and he said, "I'll help settle your stomach." She took it and swallowed a small amount. He lowered himself next to her and asked, "Anything I can do?"  
  
She shook her head. They both stared at the Tahoe. She leaned in toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her back and listened to her cry lightly.  
  
They stayed that way for several minutes before she whispered, "I wanna go home." He nodded and helped her up. He drove carefully, not wanting to further her sickness with nausea from his driving. They drove against the evening traffic, further into the suburbs, away from the city. He was nearing County Road 317 when she murmured, "Your house." He quickly got in the right turn lane. Her left hand left her lap and rested on his leg.  
  
She wearily entered his house and went straight up the stairs. He hesitated in the living room to glance at the answering machine; he chose to ignore the two messages. He followed the familiar path to his bedroom and found her curled up on top of the covers. He sat next to her and said softly, "Sara, change before you fall asleep."  
  
"No," came the choked reply. He smiled lightly at her sickly defiance and turned to her feet. He removed her black boots and red socks with black stripes. He smirked when he saw her red-painted toenails. He gently rolled her onto her back, despite a muffled protest, and undid her pants. He removed them and pulled a pair of flannel pants from his dresser, from her drawer. She opened her eyes momentarily at the noise and said, "No pants."  
  
"You'll be cold."  
  
"I have a blanket." She removed her jacket and shirt herself. "Can I have a shirt? One of yours?" He found an old Oxford button-down that was soft from repeated use. She unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the foot of the bed. She put her arms through the pale blue sleeves and collapsed against a pillow. Grissom shed his clothes until he reached his boxers and climbed onto his side of the bed. He reached over and buttoned two of the buttons on her shirt so she wouldn't have it bunching around her arms when she tossed and turned.  
  
She turned her head toward him and murmured, "I love you."  
  
"I know." He pushed some hair off her face and said as a small tear escaped her eye. "Sara, what can I do to make you happy?" She shook her head and blindly reached out for his arm. He asked, "Are you just sick or is it something more?" At her silence, he asked, "Do you want a baby?"  
  
Her eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?"  
  
Grissom shrugged. "You said you become sad when you think of Catherine and Lindsey. Lindsey was at the lab this morning."  
  
She shook her head. "That's the last thing I need."  
  
"I'd give it to you," he whispered, studying her face.  
  
"I bet you would," she smiled. He laughed and she sniffled. "I'm just sick. I get sad when I'm sick. I'm fine." She ducked her head and muttered, "I just feel like shit."  
  
He nodded and scooted closer. "You'll feel better when you wake up." She grunted in response and draped a weak arm over his side. Maybe she would feel better when she woke up.  
  
Across town, Emily gently opened the apartment door and poked her head inside. The lights were off and Greg was nowhere to be seen. She slipped inside and carefully shut the door, wincing when it clicked. She carefully set two grocery bags on the kitchen counter and took off her black boots. She shrugged off her jacket and looked at the clock. It was just after ten in the morning. Greg had been wide-awake when she had come home for her break; he was mostly likely out cold now.  
  
For fifteen minutes, she diligently made a breakfast. It had been four days since Greg had promised her a meal and there had been no time for one. Now, she was seizing the opportunity. As she waited for the stove to heat up for the pancakes, she crept down the hallway. Both bedroom doors were shut. She smiled; he wouldn't hear a thing from the kitchen. She turned to her bedroom to change clothes.  
  
Her hand flew to her chest and she pressed against her pounding heart. The last thing she had expected when she opened her door was to see Greg sleeping on her bed. He was on his stomach with his arms up by his head, clutching her pillow. Tuesday was curled up on the foot of the bed, using Greg's right ankle as a pillow. Neither being looked up at the intruder.  
  
She leaned against the doorjamb and smiled. She had that warm feeling inside, the kind of feeling she heard about it romantic movies and love songs. She knew both beds were just as comfortable and she knew that his pillow was better than hers. It touched her to see that he had missed her so much he needed to be there. She studied his face for a few more moments when her eyes widened. She pinched her nose and held her breath. Two seconds later, a hushed sneezed erupted inside her nose. She opened her mouth and groaned. That was, apparently, the wrong way to silence a sneeze.  
  
She quietly exited the room. She finished making breakfast. She set the eggs and bacon and pancakes all on a dish and put that on a tray. She poured some coffee into his favorite mug: a mug with the periodic table printed on it. She rolled her eyes at her reflection on the microwave and picked up the tray. She walked back to her room and, balancing the tray on her thigh and right hand, opened the door with her left hand. She set it on her dresser and approached the bed.  
  
"Tuesday," she whispered. She rubbed the dog's stomach and the Golden retriever opened her eyes. Emily put her finger to her lips and tugged on her collar. The dog jumped off the bed and followed Emily into the hallway. Emily poured her some food and rubbed her head. Before disappearing down the hallway again, she blew her nose and swallowed a cold pill.  
  
She shut the bedroom door and delicately crawled onto the bed. She knelt over him, straddling his waist, and leaned over so her mouth was next to his ear. "Greg, wake up," she whispered.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
She smiled and poked his side with her fingers. "Wake up, Greggo."  
  
His eyes squinted before opening. He looked around with a frown and finally saw her head slightly above his. "What? Emily, what are you doing?"  
  
"Happy birthday, Greg!" she exclaimed, sitting up straight.  
  
Greg groaned and tried to roll over. She rose herself a little and he succeeded. "It's my birthday?"  
  
"Well," she sniffled, rolling off the bed, "not really. But it's your birthday for me!" She picked up the tray and said, "I won't be here for your birthday so today is your day." She walked toward the bed and said, "I made you breakfast, I got you a gift, and I'll do whatever you want to do today."  
  
He pushed himself up. "I'm supposed to make you breakfast."  
  
"You still do," she smiled. She set the tray down on his lap and walked to the other side of the bed. She sat next to him and said, "But not today."  
  
He looked at the food suspiciously and then at her. "I can't believe you did this."  
  
She looped her arm through his and said, "I'm going to miss your birthday." She rested her cheek against his shoulder and said, "Eat. It's really good." She sneezed against his sleeve.  
  
"Thanks," he chuckled.  
  
"No problem."  
  
"How do you know it's good?" he teased.  
  
"I tested it," she admitted. "I'm a good cook."  
  
Greg took a sip of coffee and, after swallowing, sighed. "It's official: you're the best." He set the mug back down on the tray and briefly kissed the crown of her head. He proceeded to eat, and share, the meal she had prepared.  
  
Emily watched him enjoy his morning. She stayed where she was, pressed against him, and wondered what the next month would bring. She had four weeks left in Las Vegas. Was Grissom going to throw her into an excruciating workload or was he going to keep questioning her about her plans following graduation. She felt as though she was getting along better with Sara than she had in earlier days; was she going to leave with a friend in her wake?  
  
She looked up at Greg and smiled. Maybe she was finally found.  
  
  
  
Sappy, sappy. :) I know. 


	18. The Best Part

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
  
  
Chapter Eighteen: The Best Part  
  
Grissom looked up at the ceiling light as he hurried down the hallway. It flickered, not fully dimming but not shining as brightly as its fellow lights. It buzzed at him for looking up and he glanced down the hall. Two more were doing the exact same thing down by ballistics. He sighed and continued on his way, reminding himself to call maintenance.  
  
He burst into the break room. "Sorry," was the mumbled request of absolution.  
  
His comrades looked up at him with little interest concerning his tardiness. Catherine glanced at her watch. "Eight minutes, Gil?" Pausing for just a second, she continued, "Where's Sara?"  
  
"She's sick."  
  
"Sick enough to stay home?" Catherine asked, bewildered.  
  
Warrick chuckled. "That explains the lateness: Grissom had a fight with an angry Sidle."  
  
Grissom sighed and sat at the table. He paused in his rush for just a moment and looked around the table. Catherine and Warrick were in great form that night; they were bright-eyed and alive. Further down the table, Nick was leaning back in his chair, his hand resting over his eyes. His chest moved up and down heavily. Beside him, Emily was leaning forward, her elbows on the table, the heels of her hands digging into her eye sockets. She was breathing through her mouth. A breath caught in her throat and she coughed violently, dragging one of her hands down to her mouth. Greg had decided to join their briefing that evening. His skin was pale, his eyes and nose were red, and he was slumped in his seat next to Catherine.  
  
"Are you three sick, too?" Grissom demanded.  
  
Nick shook his head in the negative but didn't answer verbally. Emily muttered, "No, sir." Greg nodded pitifully.  
  
Grissom turned to Catherine. "You feel fine? You, too, Warrick?" He sighed. "Shit." He looked at all the papers again and said, "All right. Fine. Warrick, you have a robbery down at a 7-11." He pushed the small paper across the table to the younger man and said, "Catherine, Emily, double homicide at the MGM Grand. Nick, there was a robbery and a shooting at a Starbucks. The victim's still in surgery."  
  
"What about you?" Warrick asked, looking up from his paper.  
  
"I'm supervising tonight," he replied, unsure of his duties in reality. "Let's get going."  
  
The team rose from the table, save for Greg. He remained sitting, bleakly watching his friends leave. Emily passed by him and weakly squeezed his shoulder. Nick staggered out of the room, following Warrick. Catherine and Emily emerged together and Grissom paused at the door. "Greg? Are you going to be okay?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Grissom nodded, doubting Greg's response to the fullest, and walked down the hall to find Brass. He found him in his office and knocked before entering. "Brass, my CSIs are sick."  
  
"Who? With what?" Brass mumbled, not raising his eyes from the newspaper on his desk.  
  
"Sara, Nick, and Emily. And Greg," Grissom grunted. He sat in front of the desk and said, "Sara has the flu; she's not coming in tonight. It looks like Nick, Emily, and Greg are all coming down with it, too. Can we pull some people from the dayshift in? I still have two cases to hand out."  
  
"You're asking me?" Brass smiled.  
  
"I'm always supposed to," Grissom shrugged. "I just-"  
  
"Always fail to do so," Brass finished. "Yeah, sure." He glanced at a list on his desk and said, "Get Timmons and Webb. They were off today."  
  
Grissom nodded his appreciation and went to his office. He called both CSIs from Ecklie's crew and was told they would be in before eight. He looked at the papers again. He would assign those two to the murder- suicide at Northgate and he would take the third robbery of the night. He looked at the upper left corner of his desk, where he put things that he needed to do. He lifted the slightly large pile and frowned at his desk. He shook his head with bewilderment and chuckled. Emily had put a piece of masking tape on the desk and scrawled IN on the bar. His own makeshift in box; she really did have too much time on her hands.  
  
Nothing looked to be of horrible importance at the moment. He signed a few forms from Catherine and Warrick and put them on the other side of the desk. He checked for an "out box" and laughed when he saw another piece of tape declaring YOU NEVER TAKE ANYTHING OUT OF HERE.  
  
7:46. He thought for a moment and reached for the phone. He dialed his home and said the moment the phone stopped ringing, "You're supposed to be asleep."  
  
"You woke me up."  
  
"Liar. I can hear the television."  
  
Sara smiled and pulled the blanket further up to her chin. She muted The West Wing and asked, "How's it going there? Busy?"  
  
"No, not at all," Grissom lied, knowing full well that she would be at the crime lab in twenty minutes if he had spoken the truth. "I just wanted to say hello before I left."  
  
"Oh, well, hello," she chuckled. She coughed a few times and said, "You're missing out on some real fun."  
  
"Too bad."  
  
"I'm still mad at you, by the way."  
  
"That's fine," he smiled. "I don't care. I can't have you getting Catherine and Warrick sick."  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"You already passed it on to them."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Emily looks like you did yesterday. Nick and Greg look to be a little bit better than her, but a lot worse than the rest of us."  
  
"Well, at least it's just not me."  
  
Grissom nodded. "I have to go, Sara," he said, seeing Webb through the window. "I'll talk to you in the morning."  
  
"Bye. Be safe."  
  
He hung up and Webb entered. Curt pleasantries were extended and Grissom handed Webb the case. "An easy homicide."  
  
"All right." Webb backed out quickly, out of Gruesome Grissom's office, and walked by Timmons. The two spoke briefly, Grissom saw them through the window, but they didn't seem extremely cordial. For the first time in a long time, Grissom appreciated his section.  
  
"Hey Dr. Grissom," Timmons greeted when he walked inside.  
  
Grissom's phone rang and he handed the paper to Timmons. "Breaking and entering." He grabbed the phone. "Grissom." He covered the mouthpiece and said, "I'll try to stop by."  
  
Timmons nodded and exited just as quickly as his counterpart. Grissom jotted some notes down from Mobley about Warrick's case and complaints received from the owner. "If the owner doesn't want us there, Warrick can leave."  
  
"In a perfect world, maybe," Mobley replied. "Have you filled out that paperwork on the Martin case yet?"  
  
Grissom shut his eyes. "I'm doing it as we speak." He hung up and spent the next hour initialing forms and double-checking line of custodies. He hurriedly left when nine o'clock rolled around. He drove to Nick's scene, first.  
  
The smell of coffee and gunpowder violently assaulted him as he stepped inside the Starbucks. Nick was standing behind the cash register, dusting the counter. He looked up and said, "Hey, Griss."  
  
"Any prints?"  
  
"Loads," he grumbled. "And all of them are where they should be." He pointed to where Grissom was standing. "Customers come in, touch the counter, the napkin dispenser, maybe the cash register, everything. I just don't understand how a Starbucks was practically empty at seven o'clock in the evening."  
  
"How many witnesses?"  
  
"Two people actually saw it," Nick yawned. "They're outside giving their statements. They were customers. The other four people, all employees, were in the back. They only heard it."  
  
"Steal and shoot? Shoot and steal?"  
  
"Shoot and steal is the story from the customers."  
  
"If you heard a shot in your store, would you come see what was happening? Or would you stay in the back?" Grissom's eyes floated to the menu board above them. Blood decorated the words.  
  
"Me being me, I'd come on out," Nick said. "But these people aren't criminalists. They'd probably hide for their lives."  
  
Grissom nodded. "You're going to have to work on that." He checked his watch and said, "I have to go. Page me if you need help."  
  
"Later, boss."  
  
Grissom drove a few more blocks away to a 7-11. He entered to hear the owner arguing with the presiding officer. The officer looked up long enough to see who was entering, nodded at the scientist, and pointed to the back of the store. Grissom nodded back and turned to the left. "You all are hurting my business! Get out of here!"  
  
"Sir, you reported a robbery! If you want us to catch the guy, then let us work!"  
  
Grissom found Warrick by the coolers. Food packages were scattered on the floor. A few racks were overturned. "Any luck?"  
  
Warrick looked up. "Hey, Griss. Yeah, a little. The owner, Mr. Henry Mann over there, saw the guy. No mask, no bag, nothing. Just a gun and fast legs." He pointed to the front. "He held Mann at gunpoint, took only seventy-five bucks, and turned when he heard a car horn outside. Mann reached for his own gun and the guy took off through the aisles to the back door. The two bullets in the wall over there-" he pointed next to the mounted television "-are from Mann's gun."  
  
"Process them anyway."  
  
"Right."  
  
Grissom looked around. "You have everything under control?"  
  
Warrick nodded. "Yeah, but I think I should take my time to piss Mann off some more."  
  
Grissom chuckled. "See you at the lab."  
  
At the MGM Grand, Grissom was sent up to the sixty-third floor. A few of the vacationers were in the hallway, looking down toward room 6369. Grissom followed their attention and soon found himself standing in the doorway of a deluxe suite. The officer moved aside to let him in. There was nothing in the living area. The bed/bath, however, held two dead bodies and his two female investigators for the night.  
  
Catherine was squatting next the bed, looking a deceased woman in the eyes. She took a picture of the woman's face. "Anything interesting?" Grissom asked.  
  
She snapped her head up and nodded. "One contact." She looked up at the bedside table and noticed the contact container and the saline solution. One of the little pools did not have a lid on it. "Caught in the middle of putting in her contacts."  
  
"Putting them in or taking them out?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Putting them in," she shrugged. "I'm assuming. She's wearing her pajamas. The only witness we have, who is also our only suspect, said that she had called our girl. She had been sleeping. They were going out tonight."  
  
Grissom nodded and asked, "Where's the knife?"  
  
Catherine's eyes traveled down to the girl's abdomen, bloodied and slashed. "I don't know," she sighed. She looked over at him. "How'd the case load work out?"  
  
"I called in Timmons and Webb."  
  
"You didn't take one?"  
  
"With five cases out, I'm supervising tonight," he replied. "Emily?"  
  
"In the bathroom with our guy."  
  
Grissom walked into the spacious bathroom. He frowned upon entering. The room was decorated completely in dark blues and gold. However, blood was sprayed across the large mirror, over the floors, on the counters, on the fluffy gold towels, and on the shower walls. Emily was gingerly kneeling next to the bathtub, taking pictures of the blood patterns surrounding the other victim.  
  
"Hey Grissom."  
  
He smiled. She didn't turn around to look at him. "How's it going in here?" he asked.  
  
"It smells like blood," she sighed. "I didn't know blood had a smell." She looked down to make sure her knees and feet weren't on any of the blood. Her eyes returned to the naked body in front of her. He was in the bathtub, with the upper part of his body hanging over the edge. There was about two inches of water in the tub; the water was a dark pink hue. "Pretty gross, huh?"  
  
"You okay with this?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," she replied. She stood and tapped her fingers against the camera. "It's just a little blood." She sighed and said, "The knife's not in here, either. The girl was stabbed. He was... slashed. I don't see any deep, obvious penetrations on his skin." She pointed to his back. Grissom leaned in closer. Over the defined muscles and the protruding vertebrae, long red slits covered his back. "They're on his arms and legs and, from what I can see so far, his chest."  
  
"Any theories?"  
  
She smirked. "I don't play that game yet."  
  
Grissom looked her in the eye and said, "You should try. You may be surprised how right you are."  
  
"Tomorrow," she smiled. She sniffled and coughed. "Is anybody else's case as bloody as this?"  
  
"Nick's has some blood." He looked around and said, "I have to get back to the lab. Page me if you need me."  
  
She lifted her hand in a small wave. "Bye Grissom."  
  
He said goodbye to Catherine and received a sarcastic remark on skipping out in the process. He drove through the downtown traffic to the suburbs. It was just after ten o'clock. He parked in his driveway and walked up the front walk to his front door. He entered the town house and crept inside.  
  
The television was still on, depicting stories of the local news. Sara was draped over the couch, surrounded by blankets and used tissues. Her right arm was resting above her head, hanging over the arm of the couch. He picked the remote off her stomach and quieted the blonde newscaster. He sat next to her on the couch and touched her cheek gently. Her heated skin did not ease his qualms over her health.  
  
He tucked some of her hair behind her ear and studied her facial features. The past two months had been a whirlwind of emotions. He still remembered her standing in that very room, looking at his CD collection, and making an innuendo that would very shortly come true. He relished the memory of that night and a smile waltzed across his lips as he thought of it now. Everything seemed so clear now, although everything had been a blur as it took place. Their first kiss, the first time they made love, the first time she stayed for the night, the last time she stayed at her apartment over night, the first time she cooked him dinner.  
  
He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. Warrick or Nick would undoubtedly be back at the lab shortly and he still needed to check on Webb and Timmons. He looked down at her one more time and leaned over. He brushed his lips over her warm forehead and whispered, "I love you."  
  
"What are you doing here?" she murmured, her eyes flickering open as he pulled away.  
  
He smiled and leaned against the back of the couch, his arm resting over the side. "Seeing you."  
  
"Good thing my other boyfriend snuck out before you got here," she deadpanned.  
  
He chuckled and looked at her sleepy eyes. For the first time in his career, he dreaded going back to work. He traced her jawbone with his finger and whispered, "You know what the best part about going to work is?"  
  
"Looking at dead stuff?"  
  
He smiled and leaned down, kissing her cheek. "Coming home to you," he whispered. He kissed her lips swiftly and said, "Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." She smiled up at him and he squeezed her hand. He left before his heart convinced him to stay. He got into his Tahoe and started the engine. He looked to the left and studied her Tahoe. He nodded to himself and headed back to the lab.  
  
  
  
Okay, my dad just told me that since our computer is a double loser, we're going to have to take it to the shop for a few weeks. Hopefully, I'll get another update of TP in and two more of Needs. HOPEFULLY. :) 


	19. Touching Base

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
Chapter Nineteen: Touching Base  
  
Catherine and Emily exited the MGM Grand and turned toward the parking lot. Their kits were in their hands, along with several evidence bags. Catherine tossed the keys of the Tahoe to Emily and yawned, "I'm too tired to drive."  
  
They approached the vehicle and Emily opened the rear hatch. "You wanna stop somewhere for coffee?"  
  
"Nah," Catherine shook her head. "I'll just see if Greg made anything special." They put the evidence bags and kits into the trunk. They climbed into the SUV and Emily began to drive toward the police department. "So are you excited about going home soon?"  
  
Emily grinned. "Yeah. I miss my brothers and sisters."  
  
Catherine smiled lightly. "How old are they?"  
  
Emily navigated the wheel delicately and said, "Danny's twenty-five. He's an architect in Orlando. Sam's nineteen; he goes to the University of Florida. Kelly's nine."  
  
The older woman chuckled. "Kelly would be the classic mistake?"  
  
"Actually, I think she's the only one they planned," she admitted. She eased to a stop at a stoplight and cradled her head in the headrest. "My parents got married because of Danny. My mom was nineteen and my dad was twenty. They decided to get my dad through college before having another. My mom worked hard for five years, pushing him through grad school, and somewhere in the third year, I came along." Emily chuckled and said, "Then they decided to make sure they were both financially secure before having another. My dad landed a job and my mom started college. A year later, Sam was born." Green light swept over the hood of the car and she applied the gas. "When they had enough money to send three kids to college and raise another, they planned Kelly." She coughed against the back of her hand.  
  
Catherine watched as Emily looked over her left shoulder before changing lanes. "At least they stuck together."  
  
"Exactly," Emily nodded. "And my mom always taught me to save it for the right guy, or at least until I'm ready for the consequences. She's living proof that mistakes happen... three times."  
  
Catherine looked her way and asked with an almost purely parental tone, "Did you listen?"  
  
Emily's head bobbed. "Yeah, up until my twenty-first birthday. I got plastered that night and woke up the next morning with... someone I barely knew." Her brow furrowed at the memory. "Anyway, I don't do that anymore."  
  
"Get drunk or have sex with acquaintances?"  
  
Emily laughed. "Both. I'm much happier being the bartender. I see the jackasses people become when they're drunk. I'd rather be sober and keep an eye out for their safety than be smashed and not know if someone was looking out for me." She coughed a few more times and said, "And I like Greg a lot. No regrets in that department."  
  
"Well, he likes you, too," Catherine assured her as a shrill ring interrupted their conversation.  
  
Emily looked around and muttered, "My phone." She didn't see it in the front anywhere. "Where'd it go?" Catherine turned around and grabbed Emily's purse from the backseat. She pulled it up to the front and removed the cell phone. "Who's calling?" Emily asked, her eyes remaining on the road.  
  
"Matt S."  
  
Emily's eyes darted over to the phone. She grabbed the device from Catherine's hand and double-checked the reported name. She moved her thumb and pressed down on the power button. Two seconds later, the neon green lights flickered off. Emily dropped the cell phone to her lap. Catherine pursed her lips and asked, "Care to share?"  
  
Emily pulled into the police department parking lot and said, "Old boyfriend."  
  
Catherine raised her left eyebrow with suspicion. "You don't speak of him with as much... fondness as one might use to depict an ex-boyfriend."  
  
Emily just smiled lightly and pulled into a parking spot. The two women walked to the back of the Tahoe. Emily removed the evidence bags and said, "Go find some coffee. I'll take these to trace and DNA."  
  
They parted ways inside. Emily headed to trace and dropped off six bags. She went to the DNA lab and found Greg engrossed with something under the microscope lens. She quietly rested the five clear tubes on the counter and snuck up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his neck. "Hey, babe."  
  
He jerked at the unexpected touch and tried, against her confinements, to see her. "Hey, Emily." Her arms dropped and he spun around in his chair. "I hear you had a blood bath of a scene. You okay?"  
  
"Splendid," she smiled. She sniffled a little and tucked on the sleeve of his lab coat. "What about you? Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "Nick gave me some Dayquil. The one thing I can't get used to about working graveyard is take Dayquil at night, and Nyquil in the morning." Emily nodded quietly, wearing a smirk, and he frowned. "Shut up."  
  
"I didn't say anything." She turned to grab their samples. "Here you are, sir. Five samples, all for you, and don't be surprised if you only get two results."  
  
"Not much hope?"  
  
"Nothing," she sighed. "I gotta go help Catherine. See you later."  
  
"'Til break."  
  
She smiled. "'Til break." She stepped forward and pressed her lips against his cheekbone. She left the lab and smiled at him through the glass as she walked down the hallway.  
  
Break was overlooked. Catherine, Emily, Nick, Warrick, Timmons, and Webb worked diligently for hours. Grissom floated from station to station, offering help and advice. It was five a.m. when he found Emily and Catherine discussing their results with Greg.  
  
"Catherine, do you have a firm handle on the case?"  
  
"Yeah," came the concentrated reply. Catherine didn't look up from the paper in her hands.  
  
Grissom turned to Emily. "Emily, I need you on Nick's case." She nodded in response, also focused on the results. Grissom clarified, "He's leaving for the scene now, Emily."  
  
She raised her head and smiled. "All right."  
  
She left the lab and found Nick in the break room, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge. Nick looked up and said, "Hey partner."  
  
"I hear you can't figure out a crime on your own and you need an intern to help you," she grinned, stressing her title as she spoke.  
  
Nick nodded. "Spicy. Nice. Let's go."  
  
At his scene, Nick waved to the menu board. "There is blood from two different people up there. One is from our vic, Ted Waters, who died on the operating table a couple of hours ago-"  
  
"Really?" Emily asked, her head jerking over to Nick.  
  
"Yeah," he grunted. "The only witness I trusted. The other blood is unknown. The witnesses are no help, the employees are a flock of losers." He sighed. "I can't get an edge."  
  
Emily took a step closer to the board. "Did the witnesses see the perp get hurt?"  
  
"Nope. All they saw was a man dressed in black." He coughed, "Helpful, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, especially since he's probably wearing bright colors now." She looked at the ground around her. It was mostly clean save for a few drops of blood. "Did any of them act weird when you asked about the perp?"  
  
"Define weird."  
  
"Skittish. Apprehensive."  
  
"No," Nick sighed. "They were perfectly normal. They all told the same story."  
  
"Rehearsed?" she question, her brow furrowing.  
  
A loud rap on the glass door interrupted their thought process. They both turned to see a middle aged man at the door wearing a suit and a frown. Nick walked up to the door and opened it. "Can I help you, sir?"  
  
"Is this damned store open yet? I couldn't get my coffee last night; I expect it now!"  
  
Nick turned to give Emily an exasperated look. "Sorry, sir, this is a crime scene. It'll be another day or two before you can get coffee here."  
  
"Well, where am I supposed to get my coffee?"  
  
"There's a coffee store on every block," Nick frowned.  
  
"Excuse me, sir?" Emily butted in, approaching the two men. She smiled sweetly and held out her hand. "My name's Emily. Could you answer a question for me, please?"  
  
He shook her head and said, "Sure."  
  
Nick observed the quick change in the man's attitude and turned to Emily. She continued to beam. "At what time did you come by last night?"  
  
"Around seven," he replied. "When I got off of work."  
  
"Did the sign say closed or did someone tell you?"  
  
"I knocked on the door and some punk yelled at me that they were closed." He glowered. "A bunch a damn teenagers were in there, though."  
  
Emily raised her eyebrows and quickly stole a glance at Nick. "Were they in aprons?"  
  
"No," he grunted. "I knew it was bull shit but the door was locked. I couldn't do anything. Those damn teenagers-"  
  
"I know," she added. "So immature."  
  
"Sophomoric," he clarified.  
  
"Absolutely!" she exclaimed, nodding her head vigorously. "Could I ask you something else, Mr..?"  
  
"Bud Martin," he replied.  
  
She grinned. "Mr. Martin, how many people were in the store without aprons?"  
  
He frowned. "Two, I believe. A man and a woman. Young."  
  
Her smile widened. "Could I please have your phone number in case I need to call you for verification on any of this information?" He rattled off a number and she stored it in her memory. "Thank you, Mr. Martin. You've been a big help. Have a good day at work."  
  
He disappeared down the sidewalk and Emily pulled the door shut. She smirked and said, "Nick, you just gotta learn to deal with them."  
  
Nick rolled his eyes and said, "So your friend Mr. Martin was here before the murder."  
  
"At it was closed."  
  
"With people inside."  
  
"Our customers?" she asked softly.  
  
"They fit his vague description," Nick said. He pursed his lips. "They all have the same story. Witnesses rarely have identical stories."  
  
"And one of our witnesses has a wound from a bullet."  
  
Nick grinned. "Let's call them in."  
  
The two entered the police department with a rejuvenated spring in their step. They spoke to each other of their case, oblivious to the civilians and officers around them. They were almost out of the lobby when a voice caused them to stop in their walk. "Emily! Hey, Em!"  
  
Both investigators turned around to see the person. Emily muttered, "Oh, shit." Nick's eyes searched her white face and then trailed over to the person causing the disturbance.  
  
He was tall, about as tall as Nick, but with the slender build of a basketball player than that of a football player. He wore a dark blue button down work shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a loosened tie. His dark slacks and shoes appeared expensive. He was tan and wore a large smile. He approached Emily and wrapped her in his arms.  
  
Nick watched his friend's reaction. Her arms remained at her sides for a few seconds before coming up to lightly touch his shoulders. She then pushed against him and he reluctantly pulled his torso away from her. Her expression was one of horror. "Matt, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Seeing you!" he exclaimed, his hands still on her waist.  
  
"Why?" she gaped.  
  
"Well, it was hard enough with you in Orlando but then I heard you were in Vegas..." He tore his eyes away from Emily to see who joined her. He stuck out his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Matt Stillman. Do you work with Em?"  
  
"Yeah," Nick replied, shaking his hand firmly, more so than usual. "Nick Stokes."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Nick," Matt grinned. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I bet you're all pretty upset about Em coming home soon."  
  
"Yeah. Some more than others," he replied, reminding Emily of Greg. Her eyes widened and she pleaded with Nick silently. He nodded shortly.  
  
Emily squirmed under Matt's arm. "I didn't tell you I was in Vegas."  
  
"I know. Your brother told me."  
  
"Danny."  
  
"Of course," he smiled. "Just because I'm in Jersey doesn't mean I don't talk to my best friend."  
  
Nick interrupted, "You're from New Jersey?"  
  
"No, Orlando," he replied. "I go to Princeton."  
  
Nick's brow furrowed. His firm dislike for the kid was disintegrating into detestation by the second. Emily slipped out of his grasp and said, "Listen, Matt, this isn't a good time."  
  
"What?" he asked in disbelief. "It's dawn. Leave!"  
  
"I can't leave," she stated firmly.  
  
"You worked all day and night and you can't leave?" he crowed. "Shit, they're walking all over you." He grabbed her wrist. "No one's gonna miss you. Let's go."  
  
She held her ground and took her free hand to remove his hand from her wrist. "I work nights, Matt," she snapped. "Did Danny forget to tell you that?"  
  
He put his hand on his hips and glared at her. "I flew all the way from New Jersey to Las Vegas to see you and you have the audacity to refuse to see me?"  
  
Her mouth dropped slightly. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"  
  
"I called you; you never answered!"  
  
"You called once!" she hissed. "About ten hours ago!"  
  
He shrugged and offered a charming smile. "Well, that's when I knew for certain I was coming." He reached forward and fingered her hair. "I didn't want to get your hopes up for nothing."  
  
"Oh, did I finally make it onto the semi-important list or was one of your whores not feeling well?" she fired.  
  
"Emily..." Nick warned her softly.  
  
Her eyes flickered over to her coworker and she remembered where she was. She took two deep breaths and asked, "How long are you staying?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied, glancing over at Nick. "As long as it takes to get close to my Em again."  
  
She winced at his words and took a step away. "Where are you staying?"  
  
"MGM Grand," he replied haughtily, as if there were no other hotel in the city.  
  
"I'll call you after my shift," she muttered. She stole away quickly, before he could respond. Nick caught up to her and rested a reassuring hand on the small of her back. "Shit," she mumbled. She didn't turn around; she kept speed walking until they turned a corner. She looked up at Nick and whispered, "Sorry."  
  
"Not a problem," he replied. "Who is that?"  
  
"Matt Stillman."  
  
"Yeah, from Princeton," he smiled, poking her side. "Anything else?"  
  
"Old boyfriend. Listen, I need to go take care of something. I'll meet you in the interrogation room in five?"  
  
"Take as long as you need. I won't tell Greg," he promised.  
  
Emily smiled gratefully and turned away. She found Grissom further down the hall. "Grissom!" she called out. He turned and waited for her. "Can I use your office to make a phone call?" she asked.  
  
He frowned at her odd request but handed her his keys. "Sure. I'll be in trace."  
  
"Thanks," she replied. She went to his office and opened the door. Once inside, she closed it and found her way to his comfortable chair. She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and dialed the most familiar number in the world. She chewed on her lower lip until the ringing stopped.  
  
"Daddy?" she whispered. "Hey, it's me. No, I'm okay. I just miss you guys. How's it going?" She sniffled and traced the lines on Grissom's desk calendar. "No, I'm not crying, I'm just sick. No, don't tell Mom and get her worried. It's nothing big. Everyone has it. Sure. How's Kelly? Good. Oh, great. Okay, I love you, too." She paused for a moment and stared at the top of her shoes.  
  
The next voice caused her whole heart to hurt. "Hi, Mom. I miss you, too. I'm okay, really. I just needed to hear your voice. No, I'm not dying," she coughed. "I'm just sick. Yeah. No, he's sick too." She giggled, "Mom, I'm not bringing Greg home with me. He has to stay here. It's fine; I like living there. Yeah."  
  
There was a short, soft knock on the door. She raised her eyes as the door opened. Greg slipped his head inside. He saw her and she smiled. He stepped inside and shut the door. He sat in front of the desk and watched her talk on the phone.  
  
"Yeah, go get ready for work. I miss you, too, Mom. I love you. Bye." She hit the end button and looked up at him. "Hey."  
  
"Hey, baby." He frowned at the phone in her hands. "You okay?"  
  
She stood and nodded. She moved to stand beside him and he pulled her down into his lap. She rested her head atop of his. His arms snaked around her and she closed her eyes. She was safe with him; she trusted him. He would never do anything to hurt her, she knew that deep down. She whispered against his hair, "Yeah. Sometimes a girl just needs to talk to her mom."  
  
  
  
Ooh, plot twist. A little bit longer than usual and hopefully my dumb crime scene wasn't too stupid. I know nothing about writing that kind of stuff. Oh well, I hope you liked it. 


	20. A Reason To Leave

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for all of the reviews. I'm happy you're all enjoying this ongoing story... Sorry it's taking such a long time. About five or six more chapters to go!  
  
Is Brass captain or sheriff? I'm not sure. Today, he's captain. :) I'm too much of a loser to check the website.  
  
SECOND Author's Notes: I decided that I didn't like how it ended the first time I posted this chapter, with Lindsey and Emily, so I took out that last part. Now I'm happy. :)  
  
Disclaimer: My "created people" list has expanded and I'm not going to list them but they do belong to me. All the other people -like the ones you see on TV :)- do not belong to me.  
  
Rating: This chapter is a definite R for strong language and violence and sexual content. R! Don't yell at me for the content; I'm warning you. R!  
  
Archive: Please don't.  
  
Feedback: I would love to hear what you think.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY: A Reason To Leave  
  
The woman at the desk had shared with Emily his room number. She had winked at her, which Emily was certain they weren't supposed to do, but she understood the action. He was a handsome man and had been the only thing she had seen for years. But then her eyes had trained on something else and she slipped away.  
  
She couldn't understand why she was standing in front of his door, ready to enter his private domain. It would be out of the public eye, in his private domain, where she would be subject to whatever he desired, as she had been for months in her past. She took a step away. No one knew where she was. She had been trained of safety in her college courses; her professors and visiting speakers had stressed the importance of knowing where your partners were. She backed away from the door and turned the corner. She pulled her cell phone out and dialed the first number that came to mind.  
  
"Stokes."  
  
"Hey, Nick, it's Emily."  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"I'm at Matt's hotel and-"  
  
"Emily!" His surprise and disappointment were clear. She paused and waited for a berating. When he spoke again his words were tentative. "I don't like that guy, Emily. I have a bad feeling about him."  
  
She nodded and refrained from agreeing verbally. "I need to talk to him. But could you call me back in twenty minutes?"  
  
"Why?" he asked. "I mean, I will, but I'd like to know why."  
  
"I just need..."  
  
"A reason to leave."  
  
She sighed and rested her forehead against the wall. "Yeah."  
  
"Okay," he said. "Twenty minutes."  
  
She smiled. "Thank you." The phone conversation ended and Emily put the phone back into her pocket. Twenty minutes. That was enough time for him to become enraged. It was enough time for her to be placed in a bad situation. Maybe ten minutes would've been sufficient. She sighed and walked up to his door again. She knew how to take care of herself.  
  
Her knock was timid and when she saw his face on the other side of the door, she knew he knew the same. He wore a white wife beater, his dress slacks from earlier, and his shoes. He grinned broadly and swept his arm back. "Come on in, Em."  
  
She took a few steps forward. The blinds were drawn and no lights were on. Liquor bottles from the mini bar were scattered around the room. The solitary bed had been worn in; the comforter was on the floor, the sheets were tangled. Emily ran her tongue over her teeth and commented, "I see you had some company."  
  
"Don't be bitter," he admonished, closing the door. "There was no one here. I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Liar," she condemned, leaning against the dresser. "You never tossed and turned."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
Her arms entwined against her chest and she observed him warily across the room. "Did you forget all that time we spent together? I was there when you fell asleep plenty of times." She stood and yanked open the drapes. Her action evoked a sharp hiss from him. She turned to see him shield his eyes. "You're a sound sleeper."  
  
"I don't want you here to talk about my sleeping habits," he grumbled, dropping to the bed.  
  
"Then why am I here?"  
  
"I want you back."  
  
"You can't have me."  
  
"Sure I can."  
  
She sighed and sat in one of the chairs by the table. She cradled her head in her hands and mumbled toward the ground, "No, you can't."  
  
"Why the hell not?" he exclaimed. He propped himself up with his elbows and frowned at her. "If you remember correctly, I never really let you go."  
  
"No, you strung me along," she snapped, looking up at him. "I'm not a toy, Matt. You can't play with me and leave me behind. And I refuse to be your latest bitch."  
  
"You already are a bitch," he pointed out. She glared at him but didn't speak. He shrugged. "You know that Nick guy's not your type."  
  
"You don't know my type."  
  
"I'm your type."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Which you are you talking about? The well-bred, snotty prick or the abusive, self-righteous jackass? I'm confused."  
  
"Touché," he muttered.  
  
"It's true." Her feeble voice did little to comfort her. Silence fell over the two rigid young adults. Two minutes passed without a word.  
  
"You're late."  
  
"Good observation."  
  
He scowled and sat up straight. "Why?"  
  
"I wasn't done."  
  
"Done with what? Work or fucking Nick?" His eyes pierced her, trying to find a weakness.  
  
She shook her head. "I'm not... with Nick."  
  
He smiled. He had found a spot he could strike. "You're lying." He stood up and walked closer to her. "Does he know?"  
  
"Know what?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
He stopped a foot before her. "Does he know about us?"  
  
She glared at him and leaned back against the chair, attempting to get away from him. "There isn't an 'us.'"  
  
He squatted down and reached forward, resting his hand on the chair. "Does he know how you cried after-"  
  
"Don't." Her demand was soft but firm.  
  
Matt pushed himself up so he was leaning over her, his hands on the arms of the chair. He searched her face, but her eyes avoided his. "Do you still cry?"  
  
Her hand flew up sharply, catching him off guard, and she struck his cheek. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. She snapped against his chest and he shoved her against the wall, just a few feet away. Her head hit the back of the wall and she screamed. He came up in front of her and grabbed her wrists with his left hand so she couldn't hit. His right hand positioned itself around her slender neck.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
She ignored his demand. His hand pressed against her throat and she gasped. "Fucking look at me."  
  
Her eyes rose to his. His hand loosened. He scowled at her and hissed, "Don't ever fucking hit me again."  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, "I won't have the opportunity." He released her neck and she pulled her hands from his grasp. She rubbed her neck and sucked in deep breaths. She closed her eyes and rubbed her neck.  
  
She heard his hand before she felt it against her skin. Tension and anger filled the air and it was quickly sliced with a swift cut of his arm. Her head snapped against the wall again and she slid against it to crumple on the floor. She felt her shirt roll up as she fell. Memories quickly covered her body but did little to protect her. She attempted to bring her legs up to her chest, protect her torso, but his foot was too quick. The toe of his shoe connected with her abdomen four times and surely would have continued if her phone hadn't rung.  
  
"Ignore it!" he demanded.  
  
"I need to answer," she objected, not daring to look at him.  
  
"Don't."  
  
"It's my boss!" she exclaimed. She pushed herself to her knees and looked at his legs. "If I don't answer, they'll get suspicious."  
  
"They don't know where you are."  
  
"Nick does," she pointed out. "He was there this morning."  
  
Matt folded his arms over his chest. "Fine."  
  
Emily reached for her back pocket and removed her phone. "Hello?"  
  
The consoling sound of Nick's Southern accent rang in her ears. "Emily, are you okay?"  
  
"Who is it?" Matt demanded.  
  
"It's Brass," she barked at him.  
  
"Who the hell is that?"  
  
"The captain," she groaned.  
  
"Of what?" he laughed. "A ship?"  
  
"The police department," she groaned. "Yeah," she spoke into the phone.  
  
"You don't sound okay," Nick replied, his worry seeping through his voice.  
  
She stood and closed her eyes as nausea overcame her. "I closed that case this morning, Brass. What do you mean it's not done?" Matt watched her with wary eyes. Her eyes slowly opened and she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in ten minutes." She edged toward the door and said, "Can we finish this at the station?"  
  
Matt followed her toward the door. "Emily..."  
  
"Hold on a second, Brass," she said. She covered the mouthpiece and rested her shaking hand on the door handle. She gave him an even stare and stated, "Stay away from me, Matt. Go back to Princeton." He didn't speak, he didn't move, he didn't object to her leaving. She pulled open the door, never taking her eyes off him, and slipped out of the room.  
  
In the hallway, she ran to the elevator as fast as she could in her condition. She punched the bottom for the lobby six times. As soon as the doors shut, she slumped against the wall and let out a shuddering breath. "God."  
  
"Emily? Emily, say something. Emily, are you okay?"  
  
Nick's voice brought her out of her misery. She nodded and whispered, "I'm fine. I'm in the elevator."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"Yeah. Alone."  
  
"What's wrong? Did he hurt you? Shit, I knew I should've called after two minutes."  
  
Emily frowned. "How long did you wait to call?"  
  
"Seven minutes."  
  
She smiled and pressed the button again, willing the elevator to operate at the speed of light. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, kid."  
  
"I'll let you go. I'm okay, I promise."  
  
"All right. I'll see you tonight?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
They both hung up. Emily slipped the phone back into her pocket and swiftly exited the hotel. A few people stared at her, but she didn't see them. She made it to her car safely and turned it on. A headache was forming, she could feel it in her temple, and she reached for the glove compartment. She sighed. The bottle of Aleve was empty.  
  
She drove out of the parking lot. She knew where to go and didn't think twice about it. She pulled into the driveway and parked next to the Tahoe. Just before she got out of the car, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. She gasped and stared at herself. A jagged cut graced her cheek along with a bruise. She knew she had felt something metal and cold against her skin. She licked her fingers and rubbed at it, grimacing as the blood washed onto her hands.  
  
Feeling that her quick clean up was enough, she got out of the car and gingerly walked to the front door. She knocked on the door and waited. A few moments later, she heard a high giggle and a yell. The door opened to reveal a small, blonde haired girl.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"Hi, is your mommy here?" Emily asked softly, smiling gently.  
  
"Mommy, it's for you!" the little girl yelled, looking suspiciously at Emily's cheek and then at her shirt. She asked softly, "Why are you bleeding?" Emily frowned and looked down at her white tank top. Sure enough, blood and dirt marked her abdomen.  
  
"Linds, did you ask who it-" The voice ceased as Catherine appeared around the corner. She took one look at Emily and cursed under her breath. "Lindsey, can you go play in your room for a minute?"  
  
"Outside?"  
  
"Sure. Stay in the backyard," Catherine nodded. Lindsey ran away and Catherine came forward. Catherine reached forward and pulled Emily inside. "Lemme guess. Matt Stillman."  
  
"Nick told you?" Emily asked softly.  
  
"Yeah, he told me," she replied. She shut the door and led her inside. "He was worried about you. Let's get you cleaned up." She led her through the master bedroom to the bathroom. She took a washcloth and handed it to Emily. Emily slowly ran it under water.  
  
"Catherine, I'm sorry. I didn't know where-"  
  
"No apologies," the older woman said, holding up a hand. "I'm glad you came to me." She took a larger towel and said, "Do you want to take a shower?" Emily hesitated and then nodded. Catherine smiled. "Everything you need's in there. I'll set out some clothes for you. We're about the same size," she smiled. She rested the dark red towel on the counter and approached Emily. She reached out and touched her jaw, turning her head. "Anywhere else?"  
  
Emily pointed to her stomach. "He kicked me."  
  
Catherine looked down and nodded. "I can see. How many times?"  
  
"Four." Catherine shook her head and stared at the dirty white fabric. "Nick called me and he stopped."  
  
"Nice move," the older woman approved. "A reason to leave."  
  
Emily gave her a quick look. She shook her head. "I planned that part out from experience." She pulled her tank top over her head and looked down at her stomach. Catherine sucked in a breath. Heavy bruising marred her pale skin. The blood was drying to a dark brown but some of it still oozed from the cuts.  
  
Catherine pointed, almost touching the delicate skin. "Those aren't from today."  
  
Emily looked down at the offending spot. Numerous thin white lines, the largest two being about three inches long, rested on the right side of her rib cage. "No they're not."  
  
She pursed her lips in response and rubbed Emily's shoulder. "I'll make you something to eat."  
  
"I'm not hungry, Catherine, but thank you."  
  
"Please, I'm in Mom mode. At least have some soup."  
  
Emily smiled. "Sure."  
  
"We've got chicken and stars."  
  
"Sounds perfect."  
  
Emily took a hot shower, not putting the water on full force and not facing the stream of water. She scrapes on her back from the wall were nothing compared to the wounds on her stomach. She gently washed the blood down the drain. She scrubbed the demons and ghosts away. When her skin turned pink, she was satisfied with her scouring.  
  
Catherine had laid out a pair of sweat pants and a tank top. Emily changed quickly and brushed her hair with Catherine's brush. She rubbed her hair with the towel and hung it over the shower door to dry. When she emerged from the bedroom, she smelled soup and heard Lindsey talking in the kitchen.  
  
She walked in and Lindsey looked up. She was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a Barbie doll and a GI Joe. Emily smiled at the little girl. "Hi, Lindsey. I'm Emily."  
  
"Hi." Lindsey scrunched up her nose. "You have a pretty name."  
  
"Thank you," Emily grinned.  
  
"Emily, the soup's almost ready. Come with me," Catherine said. Emily watched Catherine walk toward her. "Linds, baby, can you watch the pot? Don't touch it. If the water starts to go over the edge, yell for me, okay?"  
  
"Okay, Mommy."  
  
Emily followed Catherine into her bedroom again. Catherine removed a first aid kit from under the sink and said, "Let me see your stomach." Emily rolled up her shirt and watched as Catherine cleaned the cuts with peroxide. She said with a smile, "The good thing about being a mom is learning how to do it without making it hurt." Emily smiled weakly. Catherine applied Neosporin and bandages. She was looking at the cut on her cheek when the doorbell rang. "Shit, I forgot."  
  
"Forgot what?" Emily asked as her companion headed toward the door.  
  
"Warrick's coming over for lunch." Emily groaned to herself. She stepped into the bedroom. She heard Lindsey answer the door and Warrick's deep laugh. Catherine admonished Lindsey again but Lindsey was too busy chattering away to Warrick. Catherine told Lindsey to check on the soup. Suddenly, the voices were too low to eavesdrop on and Emily slipped into the bathroom again. She leaned against the counter and picked up a mirror. She held the mirror up and looked into it, reflecting it against the wall mirror behind her. She moved her hair around in order to see the damage Matt had inflicted upon her skull.  
  
"Emily?" Catherine said softly from the doorway. Emily lowered the mirror. "Warrick's here. He knows you're here; I didn't tell him why. Do you want him to stay out there with Lindsey?"  
  
"No, it's okay." Catherine disappeared and returned a few moments later with Warrick behind her. He took one look at Emily and cringed visibly. She sighed. "Hey, Warrick."  
  
"Hey, Em." The two entered the room and Catherine resumed her task of dressing the cuts. Emily's eyes shifted between her and Warrick. Warrick leaned against the opposite counter and just observed. Finally, he asked, "What happened?"  
  
Emily explained carefully, as to not mess up Catherine's procedure. "My old boyfriend's in town. I went to see him and he... hit me." Warrick glared at her stomach. Catherine pressed a butterfly bandage on her cheek.  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
"Warrick, can you go get the soup off the stove?" Catherine questioned. Warrick nodded and left. Catherine looked in Emily's eyes and asked gently, "Anywhere else?"  
  
"My head hit the wall, but I don't think anything's cut."  
  
Catherine motioned for her to turn around. She pushed Emily's hair around and quickly found the bruised part of her skull. She inspected it and, after finding only dark contusions, said, "Lucky you, no blood."  
  
"Yeah. Lucky me."  
  
Catherine sighed and dropped her hands. She put the things away and asked, "What were you doing, going there all by yourself?"  
  
"I was thinking I had to end it," Emily said. She turned to face Catherine again. She rolled down her shirt. "It had to be over."  
  
"Did he not get the message the first time?" Catherine asked, leading Emily out.  
  
"I just left," she replied. "He was in New Jersey and I didn't tell him about my internship. I just... left. Called his voicemail, told him I was leaving, and left."  
  
Lindsey was already at the table. Warrick had already poured four bowls of soup and was now making three iced teas and a glass of milk. Lindsey was talking in her high voice about her spring break and how she liked being at home. Warrick looked up at smiled at the two women. Catherine walked by and squeezed his arm. She took two bowls and carried them to the table. Emily took the other two. Catherine said, winking at Warrick, "What you need is a nice guy."  
  
"I'm not a nice guy. I'm a tough guy," Warrick objected.  
  
Lindsey put in, "I think you're nice."  
  
"I think you're nice, too, sweetie," Warrick smiled. He handed her a glass and ruffled her hair.  
  
Emily eased into a chair and said, "I have a nice guy." She looked up at Catherine with a scared expression and asked, "What am I going to tell Greg?"  
  
  
  
Another long chapter! Well, sorry about the serious subject matter. It was a needed addition. Okay, so maybe there are three couples in this series now. Holy cow, what did I do... :)  
  
Fall break ends today and I go back to school tomorrow. I can't do five chapters in a week and a half again until winter break and I'm hoping this story won't go on that long! :) I'll try to update soon. 


	21. She Needs Someone

Title Pending by Jess  
  
Disclaimer: If you see them on TV, they don't belong to me... Sad thing is I started to tap my foot along when I typed that out... It rhymes... WAHOO!! :) It's been a long day.  
  
Rating: Back to PG-13. Hopefully no more violence!  
  
Feedback: I would love to hear if you like the story or not. Helpful pointers are always welcome.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: She Needs Someone  
  
The scene was familiar to Emily and as she acted it out, a slight tremor erupted in her heart. The idea that any situation that mimicked one she had shared with Matt would haunt her frightened her. She was about to enter her home, her safe haven, but she was dreading her entrance. Greg thought she had spent the morning at work; how would he react to her physical state and then her story?  
  
She pulled her keys from her purse and flipped through them to get the apartment key. She pushed it into the keyhole and twisted the metal together. The door unlocked and Emily entered the apartment. She saw the top of Greg's head above the top of the couch. He cocked his head slightly and called out, "I thought you'd never get home."  
  
"Greg, I need to tell you something."  
  
"What?" he asked, muting the television. He stood up and she turned to face the door in order to lock it and avoid him for just a few more precious seconds. "What's up? Did something happen at work?"  
  
"I wasn't at work," she replied weakly. She felt tears spring to her eyes.  
  
"Are those your clothes?" he inquired, stepping around the couch to reach her.  
  
"No," she whispered. She took a deep breath and said, "Don't freak out, okay?"  
  
"Emily?" he asked warily, coming to a stop a few feet behind her.  
  
She closed her eyes and gathered her courage. Her hands fluttered down to her hips and she pivoted slowly. She focused on his knees; she couldn't look at his face. She heard his intake of air and she winced. He didn't move. She had inspected her face in the parking lot. The gash on her cheek was surrounded with a glorious bruise. Her stomach was green and yellow and purple. Warrick had inspected her head at Catherine's house; it, too, was bruised and battered. The scrapes on her back, also examined by Warrick, were inflamed.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Greg demanded.  
  
Emily frowned. Of all the words that had flown through her head in the past few hours, not one of them sounded good at that particular moment. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.  
  
"Who did this to you?" he insisted, his voice rising.  
  
"Don't yell," she whispered. A tear fell down from her eye and streaked across her cheek. "I couldn't handle it if you yelled."  
  
He stepped closer and she shied back. He glared at her beaten face and wary form. "What's his name?"  
  
She sighed and tugged on the hem of her shirt. "Matt."  
  
"Matt what?"  
  
"Matt Stillman."  
  
Greg clenched his jaw and stared hard into her face. "Look at me, Emily."  
  
Her head snapped up at the words. Matt's voice pealed in her head and she screamed on the inside. It was Greg, not Matt, who was talking to her. Her fear overtook her rational side. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Don't."  
  
"Don't what?" he frowned. "I didn't do anything. What the hell's going on?"  
  
The air around Emily suddenly seemed too thick to breathe. Her lips parted and she tried to inhale but her chest seemed to tighten. Greg took a step forward, "Emily? Are you okay?"  
  
She pushed against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. A little amount of air crept into her lungs and she found the strength to walk. She started to pass Greg but he latched onto her arm to keep her there. She screamed at the touch and yanked her arm away. He held his hands up, proving his innocence, and she stared at him with wide eyes.  
  
"Don't touch me," she spat at him.  
  
"Emily, I didn't do anything," he eased.  
  
She shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. "It was just a visit," she murmured. "I just wanted to end everything."  
  
"End what?" Greg asked. He felt tears prick his eyes. What had happened to her?  
  
Her mouth was dry. Her tongue desperately ran across the roof of her mouth. "It wasn't supposed to happen."  
  
"What happened?" He scooted a couple of inches closer to her. She pushed back with a whimper. He heard noises behind him and he saw Tuesday a few feet back, staring at the two of them. He focused on Emily and said, "Baby, I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
She stared at him, confused, and said, "That's what he said." Her hand went to the hem of her shirt and she yanked it up.  
  
Greg's eyes widened. "Holy shit."  
  
"He lied!" she shrieked. She leaned forward and screamed, "I didn't break my ribs playing soccer! He broke them for me!" Greg's eyes narrowed on the white scars, the scars he was fascinated with, the scars he traced with his fingertips in the comfort of bed. They didn't tarnish her body. The bruises and cuts he witnessed now, however, would heal a lot less nicely.  
  
"I lied, Greg, when I told you I had never had sex before!" The screams continued and hit him hard. He looked at her teary eyes and fought back tears himself. "It was him." She ceased to speak. She covered her stomach and returned to avoiding his careful eyes.  
  
He took deep breaths before speaking. "You've spent the past eight hours with him?"  
  
"No," she replied. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I was at work 'til noon. I've been with Catherine."  
  
Greg nodded. He moved closer to his girlfriend. "What did she say?"  
  
"She said I should talk to Grissom and Brass. Warrick thinks so, too."  
  
He bobbed his head, inching forward. "Is that want you wanna do?"  
  
"I don't want to do anything," she admitted. Her eyes opened and she frowned to see him closer. She took a deep breath and said, "I handled it the first time on my own."  
  
"I think you should talk to them," Greg offered softly. "We can get a restraining order."  
  
"He lives in New Jersey."  
  
"He flew out here to beat you." Emily turned her head away. Greg slipped closer. "Baby..."  
  
"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't." He continued forward and she continued to protest weakly. His hands touched her arms and she cringed. He wrapped his arms around her and she cried, "Greg, just..."  
  
"If I'm hurting you, stop me," he whispered. He pulled her against him and he kissed her forehead. She shook against him and he muttered, "God, what did he do to you."  
  
Emily didn't cease to rattle in his arms. After a few minutes, he gently eased her down the hallway. They entered her bedroom and he left her by the bed. She sat on the familiar mattress and rubbed her temple. Tuesday ambled into the room and stuck her nose on Emily's knee. Emily weakly rubbed her head.  
  
Greg entered her bathroom and ran a hot bath. He looked under the bathroom sink and found vanilla body wash. He frowned and poured a dollop of it under the running water. Bubbles formed and he quickly poured more. Soon, large bubbles spread over the expanse of the tub. He put a large white towel on the floor next to the tub and rested a pink washcloth on top of it.  
  
He came back into the bedroom and sighed. She was lying on the bed, Tuesday beside her, eyes closed. He stood silent for a moment, just staring, wondering how anyone could ever lay a hand on her. Anger rose inside him and he forced himself to calm down. She had reacted negatively to his earlier anger; she would have a mental breakdown if he did it again.  
  
Greg approached the bed and whispered her name. Her eyes opened and he took her hand. He pulled her off the bed and into the bathroom. She saw the bubble bath and shook her head. "I already took a shower."  
  
"You'll feel better," he insisted. He stood in front of her and looked at her battered face. She looked away from him, staring into the bubbles. "It'll ease your muscles." His fingers brushed onto the waistband of the sweatpants. They slipped to the other side, touching her skin. She shivered and looked up at him. He tugged lightly, revealing the waistband of her underwear. She continued to study his eyes as he meticulously undressed her. He avoided her eye contact.  
  
He guided her to the bath and she stepped in, burying herself under the layer of bubbles. She rested her head against the rim of the tub and allowed herself to rest. Greg left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He paced the apartment as she rested. He didn't understand what had happened and he desperately wanted to know. Why had she placed herself in a situation in which she was in danger? Why hadn't she come to him before Catherine and Warrick?  
  
It was fifteen minutes later before he heard her voice through the hallway. He came into the bathroom to find her staring up at him, her eyes large and round and green. She raised her eyebrows and asked, "Where did you go?"  
  
"I was thinking."  
  
"Wanna think with me?" He stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him. She was sitting up in the tub, her arms resting on the edge, her cheek pressed against her arm. He stood in the middle of the room, his toes curling against the cold tile. She smirked. "Either you strip or you're coming in here with your clothes on in thirty seconds."  
  
Greg chuckled and took off his clothes. He slipped into the still warm water and said, "You know I'm going to smell like a girl after this."  
  
"Not a girl," she corrected, reaching under the water to touch his hand. "Vanilla."  
  
He shrugged. "Same difference." She leaned forward, crawling over to his side of the tub, and stretched out next to him. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her against him. She tensed immediately and he frowned down at her. He looked down and glared. "Em, your back..."  
  
She looked up at him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I used to date him."  
  
Greg swallowed, preparing himself to take the story in. "Did he ever... hurt you then?"  
  
"Toward the end," she replied. "Then summer break was over and he was gone again. He came back for winter break and it continued. Then I came here. He didn't know I was leaving."  
  
"How did he break your ribs?" Greg ventured.  
  
"Kicking." She stated it so matter-of-factly Greg almost vomited. She appeared to be used to situation. It didn't faze her.  
  
He stroked her side, feeling her smooth skin, the skin that was not hurt. She rested her head against his chest. Her eyelids became heavy as he unknowingly began to lull her to sleep. "Why did you lie to me?"  
  
She frowned. "About what?"  
  
"About... you. You said you had never..." She kept her head down. She didn't want to look at him. When she didn't reply, he dared to volunteer a reason. "Did he rape you?"  
  
"The water's getting cold." She pushed against his chest to get out of the tub.  
  
He grabbed her arms and kept her in front of him. "Emily, answer me."  
  
"Don't touch me!" She yanked her arms from his grasp and stumbled out of the tub. She wrapped herself in the towel he had laid out for her and turned to glare at him. "Don't you get it, Greg? It hurts to talk about it! It hurts to admit it! It hurts to know that I can't protect myself!"  
  
She stormed from the bathroom and Greg sighed. He released all of the water in the tub and dried off with another towel. He pulled on his boxers and rubbed his hair with his towel. He hung it over the side of the tub and walked into the bedroom. She was on her bed, in a pair of his boxers and one of his black T-shirts with some punk band scrawled across the front. From his view, he couldn't tell which one.  
  
He picked up a pair of his jeans from the floor and pulled them on. He stood next to the bed and watched her. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn't asleep. Tuesday was lying next to her. Emily's left arm was draped over the dog's reddish back; her right arm was curled under her pillow.  
  
Greg crawled across the bed and laid down next to her, not touching. He stared at the nape of her neck. Finally, he spoke. "Emily, I'm trying to help you. I want to help you. I just don't know what to do." He sighed and continued, "Do you even want me to help you?"  
  
Emily turned onto her back and opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling and whispered, "I don't know what you could do."  
  
Greg scooted a little closer. "I could be your friend. I could listen to you and help you and hold you when you cry."  
  
She rolled her head to look at him. "I want more than a friend out of you."  
  
"You have more than a friend," he promised. He reached out and brushed her slightly wet hair off of her cheek. He studied the cut on her skin for a moment before smiling reassuringly at her. "You're beautiful. You know that?" She didn't reply. Her eyes proved the extent of her doubt. "You are," he insisted. He sighed and buried his head against hers. "I don't know how I got so lucky to have you here." He chewed on his lip momentarily before saying, "Emily, I..."  
  
She closed her eyes and rested her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He closed his mouth and waited a few more seconds. Finally, he gave up, and he gently kissed the corner of her mouth. "Whenever you want to talk," he promised. She opened her eyes and he nodded at her.  
  
She drifted off into a fitful sleep. Greg stayed the entire three hours, not touching her but letting her touch him. He played with unconsciousness for a few minutes at a time, but every time Emily jerked, he was alert.  
  
The doorbell rang around six and he went to the answer the door. Catherine was there, with a bag. She smiled gently and asked, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied, scratching his scalp. His hair stuck straight up. "I'm fine."  
  
"Emily?" Catherine asked, stepping inside.  
  
"She's been trying to sleep for the past few hours. What are you doing here?"  
  
Catherine started to walk toward the bedroom. "If she's anything like I think she is, she'll go to work tonight." She held up the bag. "She needs someone who knows how to cover up those cuts."  
  
Greg frowned as Catherine entered the bedroom. He heard hushed voices a few moments later and he walked into his bedroom to get ready for work. He didn't understand why men hit women. He didn't understand why Eddie had hit Catherine. He especially didn't understand why someone named Matt Stillman would hit Emily.  
  
  
  
I love Greg and Emily. :) I really do.  
  
Onward and upward! 


	22. Not As Far As East and West

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: All right, in the story Emily's supposed to leave at the end of April. I think I'm in the first few days of April in the story. So, there will be four or five more chapters, if all goes well.  
  
Disclaimer: If you see it on TV, it doesn't belong to me.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Not As Far As East and West  
  
At seven forty-three that evening, the night crew had lost interest in receiving their assignments for the night and was involved in other activities. Nick and Warrick were playing video games, Greg was blasting music in his lab, Catherine was flipping through a magazine, and Sara was filling out one of Grissom's crossword puzzles. Grissom and Emily hadn't shown up yet.  
  
Catherine checked her watch and sighed. She had driven Emily to the lab early that night, at six thirty, so they could straighten the Matt Stillman incident out. She had sat with the college student as she shakily relayed the story to Grissom, but she had not accompanied them to Brass' office. Almost an hour had passed and she desperately wanted to know what was going on.  
  
The door to the break room opened and the two missing agents stepped inside. Warrick quickly turned off the television and deleted the game he had been losing. Nick called out, "Hey, finally, boss!"  
  
Sara closed the book and said, "What took you so long? I couldn't find you."  
  
Grissom shook his head and Emily sat at the table, next to Catherine. Catherine touched the top of Emily's hand and the younger woman just smiled reassuringly. Sara narrowed her eyes at the scene. Nick and Warrick joined the rest at the table, each observing Grissom and Emily before focusing on their boss. Grissom shuffled through the three papers he held.  
  
"Sorry for the delay," he mumbled. "Nick, Warrick, DB in an alley. Work together, please," he sighed, giving the two men a stern look. "Sara, Emily, double homicide in Huntington. Catherine, you're with me."  
  
Sara shot Grissom an unforgiving look before taking the paper and standing. Emily was right after her, trying her hardest to forget her abdominal pain. The two women left the rest of the group and headed for Sara's Tahoe. She took a deep breath and turned to the younger woman. "So what was taking you and Griss so long?"  
  
Emily shrugged and tightened her grip on her silver case. "We were talking to Brass."  
  
The two women exited the building. Sara turned her head to inspect Emily's expression. She stared straight-ahead, avoiding eye contact. Sara sighed and came to a stop at her vehicle. Emily moved to the other side and waited for Sara to unlock the doors. They put the cases in the back seat and moved to the front. Sara looked at Emily as she looked down when she buckled her seatbelt.  
  
"You did a good job at covering it up."  
  
Emily jerked her head up. "Excuse me?"  
  
Sara reached up and pointed to Emily's right cheek. Emily drew away from the finger. "I bet Grissom didn't notice until you told him. He may be observant at crime scenes, but he's not too in tune with people." Sara started the car. "Who was it?"  
  
"It wasn't anybody."  
  
"Bull shit," Sara chuckled. "And you just spent an hour with Brass to get to know each other better."  
  
Emily sighed. "Why should I tell you? Huh? You haven't really talked to me at all since I got here. Why start now?"  
  
Sara sighed. "Fine." She reached forward and hit the radio button. Emily sighed as well and turned to look out the window. She ignored the strands of the lite rock and focused on her anger, hoping for it to fuel her on for the entire night.  
  
The two women processed the scene quietly but intensely. They ignored each other for the most part, speaking only when necessary. The drive back to the crime lab was, once again, filled with music from the radio. They split up at the lab. Emily turned to ballistics and Sara to the layout room.  
  
It was no earlier than two the following morning when Sara approached Emily again. She rested against the doorframe of the ballistics lab and looked in on the younger woman. "Anything?"  
  
Emily sighed and dejectedly pushed herself away from the counter. "Nothing. The striation marks on the bullet definitely do not match those coming from the gun we found." She twisted her head around. "You?"  
  
"Nothing," Sara confirmed. "We need to go back to the scene. We missed something somewhere." Emily started to push herself up. Sara held out a hand and stepped forward. "Before we do, we need to talk."  
  
Emily groaned and remained in her seat. "Yeah. We do."  
  
Sara pulled a swivel chair five feet from Emily and took a deep breath. "Earlier, I wasn't trying to be spiteful or rude. I honestly cared about what happened. I thought you could use someone to talk to, other than Grissom or Brass. I mean, they're men." She shrugged. "You needed someone who understood."  
  
"And what makes you think you understand?" Emily sighed.  
  
Sara frowned. "You're not the only one who was ever in an abusive relationship."  
  
Emily jerked her head up. She stared at Sara for a moment before asking, "Does Grissom know?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied. She closed her eyes briefly. "It doesn't get easier. It's been ten odd years and it's still hard. I still live with the fact that I wasn't strong enough to defend myself or to run away sooner." She rested her elbows on her knees. "You trusted Greg pretty fast."  
  
Emily smiled gently. "He made it easy. Every day, he'd do something that would just peel away some of the pain."  
  
Sara smiled back. "Gil was the same way."  
  
"I thought you and Griss just started..."  
  
"In a nutshell?" Sara suggested. At the confirming nod, she continued. "I was a student, Gil was a professor, I was head over heels, the ex-boyfriend reared his ugly head, I explained, everything was okay for a while, then he left for home, I followed, he left for Las Vegas, and he called me three years ago." She chuckled. "If it weren't for him, I'd be an engineer somewhere making three times as much as I make now." She smiled at the brief rundown of memories. "It takes a special man..."  
  
"Sure does," Emily sighed. She chewed on her lip for a few moments and Sara let her absorb everything. Finally, Emily raised her eyes. "Your old boyfriend... Did he ever... I mean, did he ever take... advantage of you?"  
  
Sara grimaced. Emily's situation was far becoming worse by the second. "Eric was a world-class abuser. Emotionally, physically, mentally."  
  
"Was he worse when he was drunk?"  
  
"Tenfold. What about... What's his name?"  
  
"Matt," she whispered. "Nah, usually he passed out."  
  
"What about all the times not included in 'usually?'"  
  
Emily lowered her eyes to the ground. She ran the toe of her shoe over the linoleum. "I took him to my apartment after a party because it was closer than his. My roommates were gone." She sighed. "He was so much stronger than me. I didn't stand a chance." She wiped angrily at her eyes. "Ugh. He took so much from me, I can't stand it." She sniffled and exclaimed, "I still get nervous sometimes when Greg's behind me and I can't hear him or see him. I think that I'll be thrown to the ground at any moment. He said something today that Matt said to me. It scared me so bad," she whispered. "I freaked out."  
  
Sara rolled her chair closer to Emily and grabbed her hands. "It'll be okay. You got a restraining order, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It'll be fine," she whispered soothingly. "Trust me." Emily nodded and pried one of her slender hands away, scraping it across her cheeks. Sara stared at her red face and shook her head. There was no justice in placing such a burden on such a young girl. When the sniffles and tears subsided, Sara whispered, "Let's go."  
  
Catherine was standing in the DNA lab when she saw the two women walking down the hallway. She followed them with her eyes before speaking. "Hey, Greggo?"  
  
"Yeah?" he mumbled, staring into a petri dish.  
  
She turned her head and frowned. "What are you doing?"  
  
He raised his eyes sheepishly. "Trying to see it myself." He cleared his throat and lowered the plastic back to the table. "What's up?"  
  
"Are Sara and Emily... close?"  
  
"Sara and Emily? Hell no," he chuckled. "Far apart as east and west. Why?"  
  
"Just wondering." Catherine checked her watch. "Still no results?"  
  
Greg sighed. "Catherine, you've been in here for ten minutes. Have you heard the machine whir yet?"  
  
"'Whir?' Is that the technical term?" she retorted. "Page me!" She exited the lab and went to Layout Room One. Grissom was bent over a table full of maps. She stood next to him and asked, "Any luck?"  
  
"Nothing even close to Goldfoot's Tavern. DNA?"  
  
"Nothing yet," she sighed. Grissom turned his head to look at her and she smirked. She leaned next to him and focused on the maps. There was a crime to solve.  
  
Much later, when Catherine found Emily in the DNA lab with Greg, Emily frowned at the suggestion of lunch. "Cath, it's like six-"  
  
"It's noon," Catherine smiled. Emily's lips curled into a small circle. Catherine grinned. "In the lobby. Ten minutes."  
  
"Where?" Greg asked, stomach growling with anticipation.  
  
She turned and grinned. "Girls only, Greg." She left the lab and Emily turned to smirk at her boyfriend.  
  
He sighed. "It's no fun when I'm not around. I want you to remember that."  
  
Emily pushed herself away from the counter and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll hate it."  
  
"Don't mock me."  
  
"I wasn't mocking you," she giggled. He pulled her closer and nodded against her neck. She lowered herself onto his lap and whispered, "When I get home, we'll talk."  
  
"Talk?" he asked with a frown.  
  
She pulled back and smirked. "What else would you like to do?"  
  
Greg laughed throatily and intertwined his fingers with hers. "If we did it right here, do you think Griss would be pissed?"  
  
Emily looked around and shook her head. "Nah. I think he would think that the boldness of the act, what with the glass walls and all, is a nice touch. A good water-cooler conversation, if you will."  
  
Greg grinned and pushed some of her blonde hair behind her ears. He fingered the ends; the strands were getting so long: they were well below her shoulders. He sighed and said, "This is what I'm going to miss."  
  
"My hair?" she whispered.  
  
He gave her a leveling look and said, "Yes. Your hair. No. I'm going to miss talking to you."  
  
"I'm only going to lunch," she teased.  
  
Greg huffed. "Fine. Last time I try to be serious." He pushed against her arms. "Get off."  
  
"No!" she laughed, holding on to his shoulders.  
  
"No, go away. Go to lunch. Without me."  
  
She laughed and clung on to him. She whispered against his neck, her hot breath tickling him, "I'm going to miss you, too." She combed the fine hair at the base of his skull with her fingernails. "I'll be back sooner than you know."  
  
"From lunch?" he frowned. "Em, I'm not talking about-"  
  
"From Orlando," she replied. She looked him in the eye and said, "You think I'm leaving and staying there? Yeah right." She leaned forward and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "I'll see you soon."  
  
"You'll have fun. Don't dread it."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"You need to talk to Catherine about what happened."  
  
"I will," she promised.  
  
He ducked his head forward and caught her in a warm kiss. She placed her hand on his cheek and reached the emotion. She finally removed herself and spoke softly. "I think that's enough of a show for today."  
  
"Tomorrow..." he taunted.  
  
"Absolutely," she laughed. "Next to the polarizing microscope." She left with his grin and grabbed her stuff from the locker room. She found Sara and Catherine in the lobby. She slowed her pace only slightly. She did not realize that Sara would be coming to. After their heart to heart, the crime scene had been slightly awkward. She had been relieved to call it a day and knowing that she had to go out now was throwing her spirits right down to the ground again.  
  
Catherine grinned and said, "All right. I'll drive." The three women drove to The Filling Station. Emily and Sara had never heard of it before. Catherine parked the car in the parking lot and got out. She grinned at the small building and said, "This place has the best margaritas."  
  
The building held no more than 150 people. The ceiling lights were dim but the white Christmas lights hanging from the bare rafters shined brightly. Pictures of random people (customers and employees and random strangers, Catherine whispered) decorated the taupe walls. Hand painted designs in shades of red, blue, green, and orange hid the plain background color. The booths and chairs and tablecloths were all different colors.  
  
Emily leaned forward and asked, "Cath, you come here?"  
  
Catherine grinned. Loud hip hop music vibrated against the walls. "All the time." The women seated themselves at a table and Catherine smiled. "One of my friends at the club brought me here one time. I've been coming for years."  
  
"Club?" Emily frowned.  
  
Sara turned her head and smiled. "Catherine used to be an exotic dancer."  
  
Emily's eyes widened as she looked at Catherine. The older woman waved her hand in dismissal. "Call it a stripper. That's what it was." A waiter approached and asked what they'd like to drink. "Three margaritas," Catherine ordered.  
  
The waiter looked at Emily. "ID?" She smiled and took it out of her purse. He checked it and smiled. "Thanks. I'll bring those right out."  
  
Sara frowned. "Margaritas in the middle of the day?"  
  
"They're killer, Sara," Catherine said. "And you can't tell me you've never drank in the middle of the day. Harvard couldn't have straightened you out that much." She took a menu and said, "Emily, at least have one." Emily chuckled. Their earlier conversation on drinking had not fallen on deaf ears. "I like the chicken and steak fajitas, personally. Sara, they have good salads."  
  
Sara smiled at the comment. The three perused the menus and when the waiter brought back their drinks, Catherine ordered fajitas, Emily order a grilled chicken sandwich, and Sara ordered a mandarin orange salad. The waiter smiled and said, "Thanks, ladies. Your order should be out in a few minutes. My name's Dan. Call if you need me."  
  
Catherine raised her glass and said, "To being off of work?" Emily and Sara agreed and the glasses clinked. Catherine watched the other two women's reactions to the concoction. Their lips closed, they swallowed, and she was greeted with grins.  
  
Sara let out a low whistle. "'As they say in math, it takes two lines to make an angle but-'"  
  
"'But only one lime to make a margarita.'" Emily finished the line with a grin. Sara laughed. Catherine frowned. Emily explained, "Charles Bernstein."  
  
Catherine shook her head and raised her glass to her mouth. "No one ever said it was easy being friends with intellectuals." She cleared her throat and said, "So, anything you guys wanna talk about?"  
  
Sara groaned. "Never let it be said that Catherine doesn't carry ulterior motives."  
  
Catherine laughed. "What? Emily's leaving in three weeks and I think that, before she goes, we should all be friendly at least for a little while. Yesterday's events should only bring us closer. We've all been in that situation."  
  
Emily looked at her two companions. It was true. Catherine's ex-husband had been abusive. Sara's college boyfriend has, as well. Emily wouldn't tell her family, her brothers or her parents, but it didn't matter. She wasn't alone. She had a support group in Las Vegas, ready to stand behind her whenever she needed it. And she had Greg.  
  
The music suddenly changed to a loud rock song. Emily blinked and looked down at the glass in her hand. She smirked and looked at Sara. "I wanna know about Grissom."  
  
"Ooh," Catherine smiled. "The most wondered about couple in Vegas. Spill it, Sara."  
  
  
  
So, it's almost been a month... Sorry! :) I really am. School stinks. The Charles Bernstein poem 'Of Time And The Line' is good. I like it. The last line cracked me up so I had to use it. I hope you liked it. 


	23. Faithfully

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: All right, folks. Here's the game plan. I am going to try to wrap this up by Saturday. Yes, that's right, Saturday, November 23. That's my birthday and I decided I would like for Title Pending to be finished that day. Sort of like a momentous event, you know? Welcome to my train of thought, however twisted it may be. :) ADDITION: And since I said that Tuesday, and it is now Thursday, that goal is looking mighty stupid.  
  
Disclaimer: Okay. Emily Reese and her family, Phil Novelhin, Matt Stillman, Tuesday, and The Filling Station all belong to me. Whew. The other people do not.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Faithfully  
  
Cold hands skated over the warm skin on his back. He grunted against the pillow and shied away. The hands followed. A light giggle sounded from the other side of the bed. His brow furrowed and he muttered, "Quit."  
  
The cool air attacked his skin as the comforter and sheet were tossed back. He weakly opened his eyes to see her lie down. She pulled the covers back up to their chins. She took her hands and rubbed them together, praying feverishly. They found his bare skin again, but this time they were warm. He looked at her wearily. "How was lunch?"  
  
"Nice," she whispered. Her hands latched onto his bicep and she tugged. "C'mere." He scooted closer to her. Her arms looped around his chest and her fingers pressed against his spine. His right arm draped over her stomach. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo and soap and perfume. It had almost been twenty-four hours since their bath, and yet she still smelled new. Sweet. She smelled like Emily.  
  
Greg's voice was muffled. "What'd you talk about?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Oh, great." He paused a few seconds before nudging her shoulder with his chin. "What'd you say?"  
  
Emily grinned. "Oh, you know. The truth." He grunted. She sighed exaggeratedly. "You're the best boyfriend, you're a stallion in bed, you know... The truth."  
  
His teeth sunk lightly into the skin on her neck. She yelped and laughed. He muttered, "I don't appreciate your sarcasm."  
  
"You love it," she smirked. She kissed his shoulder and said, "We mostly talked about Sara and Grissom."  
  
"I thought you went to talk to them about what happened."  
  
"We talked about that, too," she yawned. "What do you wanna hear about first? Sara and Grissom or me and Matt?"  
  
"Sara and Grissom," he replied, shying away from the serious conversation that would soon come.  
  
"As long as you're staying awake."  
  
"I'm wide awake," he mumbled. His right hand glided down her arm to her hand, removing it from his back. He put it up on the pillow and gripped her fingers with his. "Proceed."  
  
"Sara said the reason they're together is me."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"She said when I showed up she confronted Grissom," Emily smiled lightly. "That's pretty neat, right?"  
  
"Really neat."  
  
Emily frowned. "I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to patronize me. And don't you dare drool on me."  
  
Greg lifted his head. "One, I'm not patronizing you. Two, I do not drool. You do."  
  
"No, you do."  
  
"No, you do."  
  
"We both do."  
  
"That's crap."  
  
"You're crap."  
  
Greg stared at her and said, "You're spunky for being awake for, what? Sixty hours or so?"  
  
"I slept yesterday."  
  
"For an hour."  
  
"Three!"  
  
"You kept waking up," he corrected, pressed his head back down to the pillow. "Keep going."  
  
She bit her lip as she smiled. "She said they're doing good. She said he's sweet, but not smothering."  
  
"Do I smother?"  
  
"Absolutely. No drooling!"  
  
"That's not drool. That's spit."  
  
She yanked her shoulder away and craned her neck to look at it. She rubbed it against her pillow and nestled back into the covers. "You don't smother."  
  
"You don't either. I think you're more distant than smothering."  
  
She frowned. "Do you think I'm icy?"  
  
"I think you're hot."  
  
"Seriously, Greg," she replied.  
  
His head rose again. "I think you're independent. I like that quality. And you're one of the nicest people I know. You're not an ice queen."  
  
She smiled as his head nuzzled her shoulder and neck. His hair tickled her ear. Their joined hands played above their heads. "You don't wish I was more... clingy?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Affectionate?"  
  
"I think you're pretty affectionate."  
  
"Okay." He didn't hear anything for a few seconds. "Even in public?"  
  
"I like how we are together. I don't need you to change."  
  
Emily nodded. "That's pretty much it. She doesn't kiss and tell too much."  
  
"That's no fun."  
  
"I know, right?" She turned her head to their arms and pressed her lips against his forearm. "You want to talk about Matt now?"  
  
Greg tensed. He nodded. "Yeah." He pulled away and laid his head on a pillow so he was looking her in the eye. Their hands rested between them. He focused his brown eyes on her pale green ones.  
  
She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry about lying to you."  
  
"Em, I don't want you to apologize to me."  
  
"I need to," she pressed. "I should've been honest from the beginning." She sighed and looked down at the ten fingers in front of her. She could see four of his and all of his. She frowned. "I never trusted him half as much as I trust you. Even when you came over to my apartment that one night... I had no qualms about it. I didn't look over my shoulder to see where you were standing. I didn't have to." She smiled up at him. "Thanks."  
  
He chuckled. "I was just happy you were letting me be near you."  
  
"I will always let you be near me," she whispered.  
  
Across town, Sara walked into her apartment and smiled. He was sitting in her kitchen, perusing a textbook. He raised his eyes. "Hey."  
  
"Hey." She set the bag on the island and approached him. "You know, we really need to get these living conditions straight."  
  
"What about them?" he asked. She glanced at the textbook and shut it promptly. "Sar-"  
  
"Page three fifty-two." She lowered herself onto his lap and looped her arm around his shoulders. Her fingers brushed the hair at the nape of his neck. "Maybe it's me, but I'm just not into driving from the middle of nowhere to your townhouse only to find you gone and then drive to my apartment to find you here."  
  
He shrugged. "I missed you."  
  
"I wasn't here," she reminded him.  
  
"But your things are," he reminded her.  
  
She smiled and lowered her mouth to his. His hands danced across the fabric of her clothes. Their kiss began as chaste but soon her mouth was slanted against his. He twisted a strand of her hair in his fingers. He hadn't kissed her in almost twenty-four hours and he could feel the withdrawal.  
  
Sara murmured against his mouth, "Did you get any sleep?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good." She stood and tugged on his hands. He blindly followed her, knowing what was to come. She led him to the couch and he frowned, expecting the bedroom. She noticed his expression and smirked. "You'd rather the floor?"  
  
He chuckled and pulled the hem of her shirt northward. "I'd rather you."  
  
She pulled the fabric away from them and her fingernails picked at the buttons on his shirt. "You know," she breathed, "work gets harder and harder every night."  
  
"Yeah," he muttered, staring at her belt. His fingers clumsily picked at it. "You want to make the living situation better?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Move in with me," he murmured, against her cheek, his fingers finally sliding the leather strap out of the silver buckle.  
  
"Gil."  
  
"I mean it."  
  
She removed both of their pants and pushed him down onto the couch. She straddled his hips and looked down at him. "You sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"A man of many words," she smiled. "I love it." He silenced her with a kiss. She pulled back and asked, "Well, if we move in together, what am I supposed to tell my other boyfriend?"  
  
Grissom glared at her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. He sighed and pulled her tight against him. "You're lucky I love you, Sara."  
  
"I'm faithfully yours," she promised.  
  
  
  
The song "Faithfully" is by Journey. Listen to it. It's great. All right, next chapter: Emily talks to Grissom. See you all shortly! 


	24. Noble Attitude Inside

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: This takes place a week after Chapter 23 or just under two weeks before Emily leaves.  
  
Disclaimer: See the past chapter, please.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Noble Attitude Inside  
  
Emily knocked on the door and looked around the small porch. The black iron numbers, 843, next to the glass door were slightly faded and rusted. The Venetian blinds on the windows were shut. The pavement was swept and clean. All down the street, the lawns were nice and cut. It was a picture perfect neighborhood. Emily would look into the prices before going home.  
  
Grissom opened the door and smiled. "Come on in, Emily."  
  
"Thanks, Griss." She stepped inside and offered the plate in her hands. She had offered to bring something, just not alcohol, and so she had. Coffee cake, no nuts. He took the dessert and placed it in the kitchen. "And what did you make?" she asked, her voice teasing.  
  
He smiled and said, "Chicken alfredo. What would you like to drink?"  
  
"Tea?" she asked.  
  
"Coming right up."  
  
She turned away from the kitchen and wandered into the living room. She laughed. "Whoa, Grissom, it looks like my apartment in here."  
  
He looked over his shoulder briefly as he poured their drinks. He grinned. "Lots of boxes?"  
  
She nodded and moved around them. "Yes, sir! I keep getting them from the local grocery store. The stuff that I don't use is packed up. My two eldest brothers are coming here in a week. They're taking some of my stuff home for me."  
  
"They're coming in early?"  
  
"They're coming to gamble," she laughed. "Don't let them fool you. Heartfelt gesture my ass. They want to win some money." She came to a stop before the mounts on his wall and asked, "Are you moving?"  
  
He shook his head and opened the refrigerator. "Sara's moving in."  
  
Emily's mouth formed a small circle. She smirked and turned away. He poured their drinks and looked over at her. Sara had done the same thing almost three months before. Emily inspected the mounted butterflies. She returned briefly to receive her drink but retreated to the living room again.  
  
"I like the butterflies, Griss."  
  
"Most people don't."  
  
"Most people don't even know what year we became a nation," Emily mumbled.  
  
Grissom leaned against the wall and watched her lean into one of the frames, her nose almost brushing the glass. She breathed softly, and a brush of condensation appeared on the glass. She squinted and commented, "I wanted to take Latin in high school. Only thirteen people signed up for the course so they dropped it."  
  
"What did you take instead?"  
  
"German," she grinned. Grissom chuckled. She shrugged and moved to the next frame. "Hey, I learned the best curse words." She sighed. "I should've taken Spanish. I didn't realize at the time, as a fourteen year old, that practically half the country's population would be speaking Spanish in the near future. I would like to understand some of the conversations I hear back at home."  
  
"How's your thesis?"  
  
"Finished and ready to be mailed," she smiled, flipping her hair as she turned to look at him. "It's really good. I focused more on the process of solving crimes than the actual crimes." She chuckled. "Poor Warrick. Every time he had a free moment, I would grab him and take him to the storage room with me so I could find the 'more interesting' cases. The ones where one fiber solved the case, the ones that are still open..." She grinned. "Same with Nick. I probably drove them crazy."  
  
"Could I read it before you send it?"  
  
She hesitated. His head bowed and she exclaimed, "No, you can! I'm sorry. It's just that I'm really shy about sharing my ideas."  
  
He smiled lightly and moved to the couch. "I've noticed. You still don't take a crack at theories."  
  
"I'd rather prove that I'm wrong to myself, thank you," she smiled.  
  
"Who said you'd be wrong?" Grissom asked. He watched her sit on a chair and he said, "You know, I think you underestimate yourself far too often. You're extremely bright, Emily."  
  
"Thank you," she muttered, looking down at her feet.  
  
"I'm being serious, Emily," he sighed. He took a sip of his drink and said, "That's why, from tonight until you leave, you'll be solving crimes mostly on your own."  
  
Her head jerked up. "Excuse me?"  
  
He smiled at her reaction. "I'll be with you, of course. That's the law. But you're lead. I'll process evidence with you, but you're the one to make the decisions of were to go, who to talk to, what they mean."  
  
"What if I'm screwing it up?" she frowned.  
  
"If I think you're way off base, I'll help you." He leaned forward slightly. "I don't think we have to worry about that, Emily."  
  
"Did Dr. Novelhin tell you to do this?" she inquired.  
  
"No," he replied. "This is on my own accord. I'm not about to send you out into another lab without all the experience and instruction you could receive."  
  
"Gee, thanks," she chuckled. She pursed her lips and asked, "Where's Sara?"  
  
Grissom rolled his eyes at the sudden change of subject. "She's out with some friends. I told her it was a teacher/student type dinner."  
  
"Oh, good," she smiled. "I dig those."  
  
"Have you thought any more about what you'll be doing after graduation?"  
  
"From our last conversation?" she asked. He nodded. She paused before answering. "It's easier now to see myself doing what you do. Last time we spoke about this, I was so naïve about it. I still thought it was glamorous and exciting. I still think it's exciting but I know that people depend on it." She took a sip of her iced tea. "I want to help calm people's nerves, ease their fears."  
  
"What about your fears?"  
  
"You turned psychiatrist on me," she pointed out. At the lack of response, she sighed. "I'm scared I'm not going to be as good as I think I could be. I want to be like you and Catherine and Sara and Warrick and Nick. I want to solve crimes with the same passion you all have." She frowned at the window over his desk. "I'm scared I won't make it back to Las Vegas after graduation."  
  
"You want to come back?" he asked.  
  
"To Greg. I mean, if Dr. Novelhin threw me into Las Vegas without me applying in the first place, maybe he would send my application to another city far from home."  
  
"Which home?"  
  
She spoke quickly, "Here." She stopped and frowned. Then she nodded. "This is home. I've been living here for a few months. And isn't home where your heart is?"  
  
"That's what they say," Grissom smiled.  
  
Emily took a deep breath. "There are a lot of things that could hinder my abilities. I just won't let them," she decided.  
  
"That's a noble attitude."  
  
"It's the truth. If the fear of rejection and the unknown had pounded against your heart with a tremendous force, would you be with Sara? Or would you be alone, thinking about her during the day and wondering if she had any remote romantic feelings for you?"  
  
Grissom shifted in his seat. "Who's the psychiatrist now?"  
  
Emily grinned. "Everyone has the noble attitude inside them, Grissom. We just all use it for different things."  
  
"You didn't use it with Greg?"  
  
"Greg made the first move," she pointed out. "He used the noble attitude. I merely followed suit and caught up along the way." She frowned. "Do you know how long it usually is between graduation and starting work?"  
  
"A couple of weeks?" he frowned. "It depends on the new place of work, the need of a new employee, and the desire of the graduate to have one last free summer. A numerous amount of factors go into the commencement of work."  
  
"So if I get stationed somewhere, there's a good chance that I could come back to visit?" she asked.  
  
Grissom frowned. "Why isn't Greg making plans to come to you?"  
  
"He has a job," she pointed out. "And I'm the only one in Florida. If I come back here, I can see you all again. I'm going to miss you, too, you know. It's not just my boyfriend. He's all right," she grinned, "but he gets fairly tiresome."  
  
Grissom laughed and stood. He headed to the kitchen, her right behind him. "I'm sure you two get along superbly."  
  
"Yeah," she smiled. "Just not when he's tired."  
  
Grissom removed the bread from the warm oven and said, "Take a seat." She sat at the table and he brought the food over. "It's nice to eat poultry without feeling slightly guilty."  
  
Emily grinned. "I could give you dirty looks and rant about animal inhumanities if you'd like."  
  
"No, I'm set," he smiled.  
  
The dinner was peaceful. Somewhere between the alfredo and the coffee cake, Grissom made his decision about whether or not to hire Emily after her graduation.  
  
FRIDAY'S DECISION: My goals can kiss my ass. :) Moving on. 


	25. Crime Scene

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter Twenty-Three.  
  
Rating: PG-13, for a depiction of a child's death and a little language  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Crime Scene  
  
Grissom pulled into Summerland. Emily lowered her sunglasses down her nose and tilted her head. "Whoa." She stared at the passing houses with awe. The expanse of the lawns, the shiny cars, the deluxe homes, and enclosing brick wall surprised her. She hadn't known of Summerland. "Gaudy," she commented, noticing a fountain in one front yard.  
  
"The rich need a fancy place to play and live," Grissom muttered, looking down at the address on the paper in his lap.  
  
"This isn't fancy," Emily objected. Her eyes caught another fountain, larger this time, with three nude women holding just wisps of stone cloths for coverage. "This is ostentatious."  
  
"Here we go," Grissom said. "Summer Court." He stopped at the stop sign and looked down the street. He didn't even need to know the house number. The flashing red and blue lights directed him to the right. They parked outside 3941 and walked up the large front yard.  
  
Mobley met them at the front door. "She's upstairs." Emily's eyes swept over the sterile interior of the foyer. Everything was white, silver, or black. To the right, a hallway led the kitchen. Two officers were standing there with an attractive man, probably in his thirties, in an expensive suit. Kneeling beside him was a pretty woman in a nice dress, being ignored by the three men she stood with. She had a paper towel in hand and she was rubbing the white tile floor, wiping away some dirt the officers had tracked in.  
  
Emily reached up to touch Grissom. "Griss, look." She pointed at the woman's actions.  
  
He looked over and raised his eyebrows at his intern. "What are you going to do about it?"  
  
She stared back at him incredulously and then sighed. "Right. I'm lead." She stepped off the second stair and said, "I'll be up in a moment." Grissom and Mobley headed up the stairs. Emily approached the four people. "Excuse me, ma'am?" The woman looked up at her. Her tear-streaked face glared at Emily. Emily smiled gently. "Hi. I'm Emily Reese. I'm here to process this scene and, I'm sorry, but you can't clean up right now."  
  
The man heard Emily talking to his wife and turned with a frown. "Excuse me, what are you doing?"  
  
Emily caught him off guard and stuck her hand out. "Hi, I'm Emily Reese. You are?"  
  
"Timothy Harshell."  
  
"Mr. Harshell, I'm a crime scene investigator. I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but this is a crime scene. Your wife, and you, cannot clean anything in this house until we're done."  
  
Mr. Harshell stared at Emily before releasing her hand. "Fine. Margaret, come here." Emily backed away slowly. Margaret Harshell stood and allowed her husband to pull him against her. Emily found her way upstairs. Officers littered the hallway. A few she recognized. They nodded at her, but their eyes fell to the ground. She gingerly walked down the hallway.  
  
She found the little girl's room. From Emily's hips and down, the door was coated with tear-outs from coloring books and paintings. The center one proclaimed "HANNAH" with pinks and purples. Emily stepped inside. The little girl's room was large. The carpet was white, the comforter was white, but the walls were pink and all the accents were pink, too. Toys covered most of the floor. A large bookcase with a stereo and books and toys was to the left, next to the window seat. To the right were a dresser and a closet. On top of the dresser, the small television was tuned to the Disney channel but the sound was off.  
  
Emily noticed a pair of black sandals, too large to be a small child's. She frowned and took small steps to the left side of the room. A blue Jansport backpack was lying on the ground. Emily knelt down and peeked into the open pocket without touching the canvas. Two spiral notebooks and a textbook. The room looked too neat. She set the silver case down and pulled two gloves out. She looked up as she pulled it on to find Grissom in the adjoining room, staring at her.  
  
Grissom spoke softly. "Hannah turned three in February. The parents went out for their anniversary dinner. They left Hannah with a babysitter, who is not here."  
  
"Her things are here," Emily said. "Did they look around?"  
  
"Mobley said his guys didn't touch anything." Emily looked around. Grissom continued. "The parents called halfway through dinner to see if Hannah was behaving for Julie, the babysitter. There was no answer. Julie didn't answer her cell phone either. The parents came home and found their daughter."  
  
Emily knelt down and lifted the dust ruffle. There was nothing but dust under Hannah's bed. She stood up and looked around. "It smells funny."  
  
"There's a dead body," Grissom reminded her. He didn't tell her to come into the bathroom. She was processing the scene in her mind.  
  
"The body's in the bathroom, right?" Emily asked. Grissom nodded. "I shouldn't be able to smell it that much in here," she mumbled. "Not yet." She put her hands on her hips. The bright light in the room caused her to look slender in her khaki pants and black tank top. Her eyes narrowed on the window seat. She stepped over the backpack and lifted the top of the seat.  
  
Grissom watched her move to the window seat. She pulled up with her left hand. Just as soon as the top was up, Emily's fingers dropped it back down. "Shit!" she muttered. Grissom took a step forward. She looked up at him without even the slightest hint of embarrassment and explained, "I think I found the babysitter."  
  
Grissom came forward and lifted the seat. Sure enough, tucked into the eighteen by forty by twenty-four inch space was the baby sitter. Grissom pushed the lid back until it stood on its own. Emily leaned next to him, peering into the small space. Grissom asked softly, "You smell that?"  
  
"Gun powder," she whispered. Her head moved over the length of the body and the sides of the window seat. "No blood." She leaned forward, holding herself up on the lid and the edge of the seat. "Shot in the upper left chest. I don't see an exit wound." She stood straight and looked at Julie's face. She had curly, auburn hair and a spackling of freckles across her pale cheeks. Her blue eyes were open, staring at the Barbie doll in front of her.  
  
"We have a bullet, then," Grissom said. Emily nodded. Grissom touched her arm. "Bathroom."  
  
They went to the other side of the room to the door leading to the bathroom. At the door, Grissom stopped Emily. "Emily, just to warn you, she's..."  
  
"Griss," Emily smiled. "I can handle it."  
  
Grissom started to explain further but she walked into the bathroom before he could reply. Mobley and another officer were there, standing next the bathtub. A few towels were on the floor, pushed against each other and wrinkled. Another towel was folded on the counter. Bath toys were scattered across the tile floor. A light weight settled in Emily's abdomen and grew heavier with each step she took toward the tub. Mobley looked away from her. The other officer studied the ground.  
  
The water in the deep tub was just six inches from overflowing. Sponges, action figures, and toys from Happy Meals floated gently in the water, bumping against the dead body everyone once in the while. The little girl's pink nightgown with Sleeping Beauty's face on the chest glided through the water. Emily bit her lower lip as she stared down at Hannah Harshell. Some of the three year old's blonde curls were matted to her forehead. Her little arms and legs stuck out from her small torso. The tips of her fingers and toes were blue, as were her nose and lips and cheeks. Emily cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. Dark blue marks marred Hannah's neck.  
  
Grissom came up behind Emily. "She was strangled," Emily whispered.  
  
"Babysitter?" Grissom asked.  
  
"No." Emily looked around the bathroom. The room was uneasily cold and quiet. "They were interrupted," she said. She could picture it in her mind's eye. They had stopped playing so Hannah could take her bath before bed. Julie started the water and was more than likely trying to convince Hannah it would be fun. Someone came in. Forcefully? What would possess someone to shoot a babysitter and drown a child?  
  
"Emily?"  
  
Grissom's voice shook Emily out of her reverie. She cleared her throat and said, "Um, pictures."  
  
"You want me to take pictures?" he asked.  
  
"Sure. Yes." She winced and asked, "Could you take Hannah?"  
  
Grissom nodded. He wasn't about to force her to take pictures of the small body. She retreated into the bedroom and began taking pictures of the teenager's body. After a few minutes, she felt a new presence in the room. She looked up. David was standing there awkwardly. She smiled and said, "I should be done in about ten."  
  
"No rush," he replied. He took a step forward. "How old is she?"  
  
"I don't know. Sixteen, maybe?" Emily pursed her lips. "Maybe fifteen. She doesn't have to be old to baby-sit for a few hours." She lowered the camera and took out a flashlight. She started at the girl's shoes. "Did you pronounce them?"  
  
"Yeah." David watched her move the flashlight across the sole of the boots the girl wore. "It's never easy pronouncing a child dead."  
  
"I bet," Emily whispered. She took out her forceps and removed a blue fiber from the buckle on the girl's shoe.  
  
"What is that?" David asked softly, practically entranced.  
  
"Looks like denim," Emily replied. "She's wearing khakis." She continued to move up the girl's legs. At the brown leather belt, she found another blue fiber and an orange one. She bagged them as well but proceeded to find no other fibers. She moved to Julie's well-manicured fingernails and scraped from under them. She sighed and stood up. "All right. Thanks for being patient."  
  
She informed Grissom that she was going downstairs to speak to the family. As she passed by David at the body, she asked, "Do you know the time of death, David?"  
  
He didn't look up. "Approximately two hours ago."  
  
Emily found Mr. and Mrs. Harshell at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the coffee cups before them. Mobley was sitting near them, speaking softly. He ceased when he saw Emily. She smiled and sat across from them. "Could I ask you a few questions?" The husband nodded silently. Emily asked, "How long have you known Julie?"  
  
"Since we moved here," he replied. His voice was hoarse and scratchy. "Four years ago."  
  
"How old is she?"  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
"She's babysat for Hannah before?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"Has she ever done anything to your knowledge along the lines of inviting friends over?"  
  
"No," Mr. Harshell spoke firmly. "We had strict rules about that. It was only to be her and Hannah, the entire night. Julie knew that."  
  
Emily glanced down at the notes she was taking. "So, you were at dinner and called to check in?"  
  
The mother's voice sounded. "Hannah wasn't always perfect for Julie, especially when a bath was involved. We called to make sure everything was going well."  
  
"So this wasn't the first time Julie had given Hannah a bath?"  
  
"It was probably the third or fourth."  
  
Emily nodded slowly. "No one answered when you called?"  
  
The husband nodded. "We called Julie's cell phone and she didn't answer that either. We left dinner and came home. We found Hannah..." He lowered his head momentarily. "But we didn't see Julie. The detective told us you found her?"  
  
"Yes, we found her."  
  
"She's dead?" he asked. Emily nodded. "Good." Emily's eyes snapped up. The husband glared. "She killed my baby. She let her drown-"  
  
Emily clenched her jaw and interrupted the grieving father. "Thank you for your patience, Mr. Harshell, Mrs. Harshell."  
  
She stood and headed for the front door. She inspected every inch of the door. There were no signs of a forced entry. She stepped onto the lawn and searched the windows and the soil at the edge of the house. She didn't see any footprints. The windows were also clear. It was at the rear of the house, next to the screened patio, that she noticed the doggie door. She knelt next to it and held her flashlight up to it. She touched it with her hand and it swished in front of her. It was large enough for her to fit through, if she squeezed.  
  
A light shined down on her. She squinted up against the darkness of the surrounding night into the second beam of light. "Find something?"  
  
She nodded. "The entire perimeter is secure. No one broke in. But there's a doggy door." Grissom looked down at it from inside the patio. "It's fairly big. I could fit in it, I think, but I'm not sure if a male intruder could."  
  
"Male?"  
  
She blushed. "I think it's a guy."  
  
Grissom nodded and knelt down. "Any physical evidence."  
  
She smirked up at him. "I haven't looked yet." She perused the outside and he searched the inside. They both came up with fibers and hair. Emily went into the house to speak to the parents again. Grissom dusted the doggy door, in search of latent prints.  
  
Inside, Emily stood in the kitchen. "Mr. Harshell, do you have a dog?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, looking away from Mobley. "Well, we did. He ran away about two weeks ago."  
  
"What kind of dog was it?"  
  
"A sheepdog."  
  
Emily nodded slowly. A big dog would explain the big doggy door. "Have you kept the doggy door unlocked since then?"  
  
"Yes," he frowned. "Why?"  
  
Mobley stepped forward. "Why would you keep it unlocked if the dog was gone?"  
  
The man, feeling pressure, almost glared. "Hannah..." He took a deep breath and stammered, "Hannah liked to crawl through it."  
  
Emily lowered her head. There was a large chance that the doggy door was how the perpetrator had gotten into the house. She couldn't picture the parents taking that news too well. "Mr. Harshell, did you leave your patio door unlocked?"  
  
"Yes, I guess," he replied. "We're always going back and forth between the patio and the house. We kept locking ourselves out of the house when we moved here. Now, we just leave it unlocked."  
  
Emily left the kitchen and found Grissom coming in from the patio. He asked, "Anything else?"  
  
She smirked and said, "This is like a midterm. Final." She turned around slowly and said, "I think that's it." She peered up at him. "Is that it?"  
  
He smiled. "If you say so. The house isn't going anywhere."  
  
"But the evidence is."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "I think I've heard that before."  
  
"If only everyone else listened to you this much, huh?" she teased.  
  
He smiled as they headed for the stairs. "If only."  
  
  
  
There you have it. I'll try to update soon. I'm so excited to get this finished, but I'm sad, too. :( But I really want to get to work on Needs. I'm in the mood for some Sara/Nick stuff.  
  
I do have a question for you all, and here is the stuff leading up to it. :) I think this is my favorite chapter, just because I think I finally did a good job of writing a crime scene. My other one is Sara and Grissom's first date. What's your favorite chapter? I'd really like to know; it'll help me figure out what's good, what's not good, was the writing different, stuff like that. 


	26. Little Things

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter 23. Oh, and Danny, Sam, Mike, and Josh are all mine too.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Little Things  
  
Emily pushed open the door to Layout Room Two and slumped onto a stool. Grissom raised his eyes from the light table and asked, "How was the autopsy?"  
  
"Julie died from a bullet wound to the right ventricle," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Hannah was held under water until she drowned." She rested her hands on her forehead and her elbows on the table. "How's this coming along?"  
  
"It's not," he sighed. "Greg's backed up in DNA so we won't get those hairs back for a few more hours. Trace is almost caught up."  
  
"Why? Day shift's stuff was all done."  
  
"Warrick and Catherine brought their case in a few minutes before us. Nick and Sara were here long before them."  
  
Emily's eyes swept over the enlarged photos on the table. "I can't believe we didn't find one muddy footstep in the house. It's been raining, their house is surrounded by dirt... Do you think the dirt the mom was wiping up was from the perp?"  
  
"I doubt it," Grissom muttered, staring at the photo in his hand. "The perp must have heard them upstairs. He wouldn't have gone to the kitchen."  
  
Emily nodded. "I'm going down to Trace." Grissom nodded and she left. She stopped at the break room and poured herself some coffee. It was one o'clock in the morning and, with all the stress she had about being lead, she needed a caffeine kick. Just as she was about to leave, Greg came in.  
  
"Hey, baby."  
  
"Hey," she smiled. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Why aren't you working? I want my results."  
  
"I didn't make the damn machine," he muttered. He poured himself some coffee and said, "Hey, the receptionist told me there're a few messages for you."  
  
"For me?" she frowned. "Who'd be calling me?"  
  
He shrugged. "Let's go find out."  
  
"I need to get back to Grissom," she objected as he pulled on her hand.  
  
"Bull shit," he smiled. "Until you get the DNA results, your case isn't going anywhere. Trace hasn't even started processing your fibers yet." Emily groaned and he slung his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you shouldn't waste time at a crime scene next time," he teased.  
  
"Hey!" she protested as they stepped into the hall. "Griss made me be lead tonight. I was double checking every little thing."  
  
"That's right. How'd that go?" Greg brought the mug to his lips.  
  
"It was weird," she confessed. "I didn't like bossing the boss around."  
  
"I'd kill to be you," he chuckled. They walked through the halls of the crime lab, heading in a vague direction toward the front of the police department. He spoke solemnly. "Did the babysitter do it?"  
  
"No," Emily sighed. "At least, I don't think so." She sighed. "I'm thinking someone who knew her came in and killed her. I just don't know-"  
  
"Hey, there she is!"  
  
The rowdy yell caused both Emily and Greg to turn their heads. Four young men, probably just under his age, were walking down the hallway, toward the couple. Beside him, Emily yelped and Greg felt her slip out from under his arm. She ran up the group and flung herself into the arms of one of the guys. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around. The three other guys stood behind them, smiling, but also eyeing Greg suspiciously.  
  
Greg stood awkwardly in the hallway, looking at Emily's pleased face. Her eyes were shut and a large smile painted her face. "Danny, you're five days early!"  
  
The man set her feet on the floor and pulled back, holding her at arm's length. "I missed my baby sister."  
  
"Bull shit," she laughed, slipping out of his grasp. "You wanted to do some gambling."  
  
"Hey, it's legal for a reason," he laughed.  
  
Emily wrapped one of the other guys in her arms. He looked younger than the other one, but he was at least three inches taller. "Hey, Sammy," she squealed.  
  
He hugged her back and smiled. "Hey, Em."  
  
She tousled his hair and smiled at him. "Got your fake ID?"  
  
He laughed. "What are you talking about?"  
  
She went up to the other two guys and gave them hugs. "The whole posse's here." She started back for Danny but then turned toward Greg. She broadly grinned and grabbed Greg's arm. She pulled him forward and said, "Guys, this is Greg. Greg, this is my older brother, Danny; my younger brother, Sam; and their friends, Mike and Josh."  
  
Greg stepped forward and shook hands with each of the guys, trying hard to ignore the glare Danny held and the extra hard handshake Sam bestowed. "Nice to meet ya," he said.  
  
Danny folded his arms across his chest. "You're Emily's boyfriend?"  
  
Greg frowned and nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Emily immediately sensed the tension. She stepped between the group and Greg and faced her brothers. Her hand found Greg's behind her. She smiled at the boys. "Um, I don't get off work for another six hours or so."  
  
"Yeah, Ma said you worked nights," Sam offered. "We just wanted to stop by and tell you we're here. We've left messages."  
  
"I've been out."  
  
"Now we're damn tired," Josh yawned.  
  
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Now here's why we're really here: how do you get to your apartment?"  
  
"My apartment?" Emily repeated slowly.  
  
"Yeah, where else would we crash?" Danny frowned.  
  
"You're staying at... Emily's apartment?" Greg asked incredulously, stepping forward into Emily.  
  
Danny frowned at Greg's actions. "Yeah." He looked down at Emily. "You don't expect us to pay for a hotel do you? The ones around here are freakin' expensive. Besides, I forgot where your apartment was from when I helped move you in."  
  
Emily felt Greg's fingers digging into her back. She squirmed and said firmly, "I actually I do expect you to stay at a hotel."  
  
"What the hell?" Sam exclaimed.  
  
She glared up at her younger brother and immediately established the unwritten rule that, despite he was in college and a good six inches taller than she, there was no sane reason for him to oversee the fact that she had been in charge since they were toddlers and she still was. "You guys showed up almost a week early. And it's not just Danny, it's you and Josh and Mike. Yes, you're staying at a hotel. They're not all expensive," she eased. "You don't have to stay at the Rio or anything."  
  
Greg bit his lip to hide his smirk and rubbed his thumb over the spot his fingertips had just jabbed her.  
  
Danny noticed Greg's demeanor and said, "Fine. But don't forget we drove two days to bring you home."  
  
She teased and said, "You act like I've forgotten how to find it."  
  
"Emily!"  
  
All six turned at the voice behind them. Grissom stood in the hallway. He eyed the men surrounding her suspiciously and said, "Al wants to speak to us. Greg, DNA?"  
  
Greg nodded and looked past Emily to her brothers and friends. "Nice to meet you guys. I'm sure I'll see you before you leave."  
  
Danny gripped Greg's hand one last time. "Our pleasure."  
  
Greg pulled back behind Emily again and said, "See ya later." He bent down and quickly kissed her cheek. She smiled and he hurried down the hall. "I was working, honest!" he exclaimed as he passed Grissom.  
  
Emily turned to the boys and said, "Call my cell phone when you find out where you're staying."  
  
"When do you get off work?" Sam asked.  
  
She started backing down the hall. "Eight or so."  
  
Mike laughed. "Screw that. We're going to sleep so we can party all week." They other guys started cheering.  
  
She smiled and blew her brothers each a kiss. "Talk to you later." She turned on her heel and took the remaining steps up to Grissom. She smiled at him and touched his elbow, turning him away from her small crowd.  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"That's my brothers and their friends," Emily said. "They came to take me home."  
  
"You're here for the rest of the week."  
  
"I know," she yawned. "They wanted to get some partying in."  
  
They entered the morgue. Doc Robbins looked up and said, "I conducted a more thorough search on Julie's body." The two investigators approached the stainless steel table. The coroner pulled the bottom of the sheet up, revealing the teenager's ankles and feet. He pointed to her ankles. "Slight contusions." He pulled the blanket further up to rest on her thighs. "More bruises just above her knees."  
  
Grissom leaned over and peered closer. "Someone was holding onto her."  
  
"She tried to get away," Emily muttered. Her eyes slipped up the sheet to Julie's face. The scene once again played through her mind, differently this time. Julie was still trying to get Hannah to take a bath. Someone came in. Was it someone Hannah knew or was it a stranger? If Emily's hunches were correct and Julie did indeed follow the rules laid out by Mr. Harshell, then it would have been a stranger. Julie and the intruder started to fight. Hannah got frightened and started to scream. The trespasser was focused on the child for a second and Julie tried to get away. Did Julie trip on a toy? She fell and scrambled to get up. The intruder grabbed at her legs, then her ankles. He shot her and then turned to Hannah. Or maybe he drowned Hannah first.  
  
Emily shook her head. "Were those bruises caused by a man?"  
  
"More than likely," Doc Robbins stated.  
  
"We need more than likely," Grissom sighed. "We need absolutely."  
  
Two hours later, the results came back from Trace and DNA. The blue fibers found of Julie were indeed denim. The orange fiber was dyed cotton from a shirt of some type. The epithelials from under Julie's nails were XY, but the donor was unknown.  
  
Emily pushed herself away from the table and allowed the chair to roll gently into the wall. "We need to talk to her friends."  
  
Grissom nodded and glanced at his watch. "It's almost four. We can't do anything for a few more hours. Go home, get some rest, and I'll meet you back here at ten."  
  
She started to hesitate but nodded. "Sounds good." She stood and pushed her chair back to the table. She squeezed his shoulder and said, "Only if you go home, too."  
  
He smiled and replied, "Good-bye, Emily." She gave him a pointed look and crossed her arms over her chest. He eyed her with a smirk and sighed. "I'll be gone in a few minutes. Tell Greg he can leave if he's caught up with everything."  
  
She grinned and said, "See ya at ten." She headed down to the DNA lab and stuck her head inside the apparently empty room. "Hey, Greggy?"  
  
"Huh?" came the muffled reply. She frowned and walked into room. "Down here," he called out.  
  
She went around the island and looked down. He was half inside the cabinet. Chemical containers and tubes and boxes of slides were surrounding him. "What are you doing?" she frowned.  
  
"Cleaning," he replied. He pushed himself out and looked up at her. She smiled and reached forward, brushing dust from the tips of his hair. "It's really nasty in here."  
  
"How many spiders?"  
  
"Three. One already dead and two I killed, after I made sure Grissom wasn't around." He sneezed lightly. "Excuse me. What're you doing here?"  
  
"Bless you. Oh, Griss is sending me home until ten. Wanna come?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows. "He said you could leave if you were caught up with everything."  
  
Greg nodded and said, "Give me ten minutes and I'll have everything put away." She bobbed her head and leaned forward to press her lips against his. Greg dropped the box in his hands and wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck. She smiled and leaned further into him. His other hand reached up under her lab coat to her waist and pulled for her.  
  
She struggled against him and whispered, "Hey, let's go home." She grinned and reached up, taking his hand from her neck. She kissed his knuckles and said, "Nine minutes."  
  
She headed to the locker room, leaving a slightly chagrined Greg behind. She slipped out of her lab coat and grabbed her jacket. It was reaching eighty-five degrees again in the day, but at night a cool breeze still flew. She was reaching for her purse when the door opened.  
  
Sara came in and smiled. "Hey, Emily."  
  
"Hey," Emily smiled softly.  
  
"Aren't you on Grissom's case?" Sara asked. "The one with the little girl and the babysitter?"  
  
A frown replaced the smiled. "Yeah."  
  
"Any ideas who the perp is?"  
  
"Someone the babysitter knew." Emily shut her locker and sat on the bench. "I can just feel it, you know? It has to be someone she knew."  
  
Sara smiled and sat facing the younger woman. "Grissom's right, you know what you're doing."  
  
"What?"  
  
Sara tapped her nails on the bench. "When you first got here, you refused to even guess as to who could have done it. Now you trust yourself. You know what you're doing."  
  
"Grissom said that?" Emily ventured softly.  
  
"Sure did." Sara stood and rustled through her already open locker, turning her back to Emily. "Yesterday, when he told me you were going lead. He trusts you."  
  
Emily took a deep breath and went with her guts. "I wish everyone here did." Sara's head tilted slightly. Emily headed for the door. "Have a good day, Sara."  
  
Emily helped Greg finish cleaning. He ran to the locker room, grabbed his keys, and came back out to find Emily staring at the message board. He slung his arm around her shoulders, in a mirror action of earlier that night, and held her close as they walked out.  
  
The entire ride to the apartment, Emily spilled everything about her case. She saved the best for last. As they walked into their home, she relayed what Sara had said. Greg shared her enthusiasm for a few minutes as they stood in the kitchen until, finally, her walked forward and grabbed her hips. He lifted her up onto the counter and said, "Are we going to talk about Grissom all morning?"  
  
"I'm excited!" she protested.  
  
"So am I," he muttered.  
  
She grinned slyly and rested her elbows on his shoulders. She folded her arms back toward her, her hands hanging between the two of them, and rested her chin on her hands. "Talking about Grissom doesn't turn you on?" He rolled his eyes. His hands skimmed up and down her back, raising her shirt every slightly. "I mean, come on, Greg, he's very handsome. He's got that whole distinguished man thing going on-"  
  
"Hey, quit it," he objected. She laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. He pulled back and shook his head. A somewhat serious question erupted. "If you like that whole distinguished thing, then what the hell are you doing here?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Sara likes distinguished. I like unique." She kissed him then.  
  
"You just called me weird," Greg muttered against her.  
  
She punched his chest lightly. "Loser."  
  
He grinned and embraced her tightly. Her arms and legs found their way around his body. He felt her breathing warmly against his neck. He could feel her hair falling over his shoulder through his shirt. Her eyes closed and her eyelashes tickled his skin. Her nails skated through his hair. Little things like that he would miss the most, he feared. 


	27. Leaving Home

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
Disclaimer: You gotta look back a few chapters; I forget which one it is. 23, maybe?  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Author's Notes: So, I haven't updated in a while (today is January 2). A LONG while, actually. Apparently, AOL and fanfiction.net have joined together to kick me in the butt every time I have tried to update (and believe me, I've tried). The story's been done since February, however, technical difficulties, blah blah blah.  
  
So, everyone needs to thank Grav PROFUSELY. She e-mailed me about two weeks ago and asked me what the deal was. I said, hey, how about you upload it. And here we are. So, thank you, Grav, very much. I adore this story and the ending is here because of you.  
  
Thank you to everyone who stuck by me since the beginning. Thank you for criticisms and praises. I'm sorry if I disappointed you for the pause in the story telling. I hope you leave my story with a happy heart.  
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Leaving Home  
  
Two loud knocks on the door roused Greg from his sleep. He could feel light against his eyelids and he fumbled for his pillow. As he positioned it over his head, making sure to apply pressure over his ears, angry thoughts swarmed in his mind. Everyone in the world who mattered knew that he was a nocturnal being. He cherished the daylight hours for the rest potential. Usually, whenever someone knocked on the door during the day, he cursed and grumbled. Emily, after running a soothing hand over his arm, would rise and stumble out of bed. She would chase away the interrupter. Where was she?  
  
Recent memories found him sprawled in bed with Tuesday at his feet. She had left early to go to one of the local high schools with Grissom. He was angry with Grissom because of the situation. Didn't the man realize that in three minuscule days his girlfriend would be leaving Las Vegas, leaving Nevada, leaving the Pacific Time Zone, leaving his arms?  
  
The shallow hole in Greg's heart deepened by three feet in just three seconds.  
  
Three more loud raps. Greg groaned audibly and prayed that the imbecile outside the door would hear his annoyance and leave. Now that he was awake, he wanted to mope over Emily's pending departure. A weight settled onto his feet and he jumped. He yanked the pillow off his eyes and he sighed. He would miss Tuesday, too.  
  
A steady pounding came from the front door. Greg cursed and fumbled with the covers. He stumbled out of bed and kicked one of the tangled bed sheets until it fell from his left foot. Tuesday padded sleepily after him. Greg jerked open the door and stared.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Oh, I can see why Emily likes you so much. You're polite."  
  
Danny and Sam stood just outside the door. Greg scratched his head and said uneasily, "Emily's not here, but you can come in."  
  
The two boys stepped in. "Where is she?"  
  
"She went to work."  
  
"But she works nights."  
  
"She got called in at ten," Greg yawned. "She shouldn't be gone all day. Want to leave a message or anything?"  
  
Danny looked around the kitchen and living room curiously. Sammy stared at Greg. "Were you asleep?"  
  
"Yeah," Greg snapped. "We sleep during the day."  
  
Sammy frowned. "Sorry."  
  
"Sorry," Greg mumbled. He wasn't a morning person. He wanted Emily's brothers to leave. He winced when Danny sat down on the couch. Tuesday jumped onto the couch. "Tuesday!" Greg called. The Golden Retriever immediately descended onto the floor.  
  
Sammy ventured, "How long have you and Emily been living together?"  
  
Greg looked at him quickly. Danny turned around to listen, rubbing Tuesday's head with his right hand. "Uh, two and a half months, maybe?"  
  
"Why did she move in?" Danny asked.  
  
"Her landlord jacked the price up at her old apartment. She didn't want to pay it, I needed a roommate... It was the logical thing to do."  
  
"She didn't tell us."  
  
"Of course not," Greg scoffed. "How would you guys have responded if she called to say she moved in with some guy she just met in Vegas?"  
  
Sammy chuckled. He looked around and asked timidly, "Is she excited about coming home?"  
  
For a split second, Greg thought he was asking about Emily coming home from the lab. He almost answered with "I hope so" but then he realized that her brother was talking about going to Orlando. He gathered his thoughts and said, "Yeah. She is. She misses you all."  
  
"What about you?" Danny asked.  
  
"What about me?" Greg frowned.  
  
"How do you feel about her coming home?"  
  
Greg's heart hammered against his rib cage. "How do you think I feel?" Danny raised his eyebrows. Greg searched for the right words. "She's not going home. She's leaving home. She belongs here, with me, with the lab. I feel like hell."  
  
The rest of the conversation felt like a dream to Greg. They didn't stay for much longer. They told him to tell Emily to go to their hotel later that day. They left the apartment quickly. Greg fell back into bed and met a fitful slumber. Life just didn't feel right anymore. Nothing could feel right with Emily thousands of miles away from him.  
  
A familiar body woke him up. He opened his eyes and smiled, seeing her next to him. "What time is it?" he murmured.  
  
"Two o'clock."  
  
"How was it?"  
  
"The babysitter's friends told us about this guy who liked her. They said he was weird. We found him and brought him in for questioning. He was jittery and shit. It was great. We got his DNA. I think he did it," she whispered. "We'll find out tonight." She yawned. "What happened here?"  
  
"Your brothers stopped by."  
  
"Oh, really? I told them to come by around four."  
  
Greg shrugged and pulled her closer to him. "They want you to go to their hotel before work."  
  
Emily nodded. "Thanks for telling me."  
  
Greg looked her in the eye and sighed. He remembered their first meeting in the technicians' office. Her eyes had been wide and frightened and so amazingly green. She told him often that he saved her from a horrible situation. He never really took that assertion seriously; Emily liked to exaggerate. However, looking at her now, he saw it to be true.  
  
"I love you."  
  
The words tumbled clumsily over his lips. He winced. After weeks of interruptions and pauses, he had finally spoken what had been dancing on his tongue. It hadn't come out as expected, but with the two of them, nothing ever happened as planned. She didn't stare at him with horror gleaming in her eyes. Instead, she exhaled slowly and shakily whispered, "I love you, too."  
  
He nodded and his lips curled into a smile. His eyes darted around playfully before he blurted, "I know."  
  
She laughed and pushed his shoulder. He grabbed her hand and pulled it over his shoulder. He encased her in his arms and held her tight against his warm chest. He murmured into her hair as sleep caught up with him, "I'm going to kill Grissom if he calls you in again during the day."  
Okay, it's short. Sorry, sorry. :) 


	28. At This Moment

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
Author's Notes: This is the last chapter. There may be an epilogue.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for strong language and sexual content  
  
Disclaimer: Chapter... 23 has it, I think. The song "Goodbye To You" is by Michelle Branch and it's from her CD "The Spirit Room.". The other song "At This Moment" belongs to Billy Vera. The latter song is an absolute must every person should have. It is the saddest breaking-up/I-want-you- back song in the world. The lyrics are rearranged to fit the story.  
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: At This Moment  
Cardboard boxes had cluttered the hallway in the apartment for days now. Greg was used to navigating around the boxes. He was also used to ramming into them. He walked toward the kitchen, now, away from her bedroom. He found Tuesday whimpering in the kitchen. "Shit." Greg stepped over her and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. He filled it with water and placed it on the floor. Tuesday's bowls were now in a box marked MISCELLANEOUS.  
  
In two hours, all the boxes would be gone. Emily and her brothers had decided it would be best to leave somewhere between six and seven. Emily was used to being awake then and could drive twelve hours without a problem. Her brothers and friends had spent the past few days partying all night and sleeping all day; they were prepared for a twilight drive.  
  
Greg hoisted himself onto the counter and leaned his head against the cabinets. Work last night had been draining. Emily's case had been solved with the DNA from the boy, Johnny Mills. He admitted to tracking Julie to the Harshells' home. Julie had met him at the door but refused to let him in, obeying the rules laid out by her clients. Unhappy with the meeting, Johnny went around back, broke into the patio, went through the doggy door, and met the girls upstairs. Julie went first, and then the little girl was killed.  
  
After the grueling confession, Emily and Grissom had retreated to his office. Greg knew there had been tears; Emily didn't handle cases involving children well. Around midnight, instead of a break, everyone went to the break room and had a surprise graduation party for Emily. No goodbyes were exchanged, only presents and well-wishes. Tonight was the night they would say goodbye. She would show up, say her farewells, and leave.  
  
He knew what she was doing. She was sitting Indian-style in front of her dresser, the drawers all laid out around her. She was packing her clothes. Her books and CDs were already packed, save for one. She had been playing this one burned CD since they had gotten home from work. She only played two songs, a Billy Vera song and one he didn't recognize. He smiled; he had learned to tolerate music that wasn't punk rock in the months that she'd been around.  
  
He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and sighed. The cabinets looked bare. All her dishes and glasses were gone. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. The leather couch, his favorite couch in the entire world, would be gone in just one hundred and twenty minutes. He would have to bring the old one out of his room.  
  
He filled the cups with water and ice cubes and started for her room. His knee sharply made contact with one of the boxes. Water flew over the rim of the cup and splattered on one of the boxes. He sighed and continued to walk. He stopped just outside the room and peered inside. Her back was facing him. She wore her favorite pair of jeans and a red spaghetti strap shirt. Her hair was in a messy ponytail. He saw her toes wiggling with the music; her toenails were painted red. He knew she wasn't wearing makeup.  
  
She was gorgeous.  
  
He entered her room and handed her the glass of water. She looked up and smiled. "Thanks, babe."  
  
"Anytime," he replied automatically. She smiled and reached behind herself to rub his denim-clad leg. He looked down and whistled. "Ooh, unmentionables."  
  
She rolled her eyes as he relaxed on her bare mattress. She returned to putting her underwear in a box. "You've seen them enough times to mention them."  
  
He reached out and tugged on her hair with his right hand. He frowned suddenly. "That's mine!" He pointed to a pair of blue boxers with lemons on them.  
  
"I like them."  
  
"But they're mine."  
  
She pulled a dark purple bikini out and tossed it at him. "Now we're even."  
  
"I can't wear this," he stated matter-of-factly, holding it up by one of the sides. She smiled and shook her head, deciding to ignore him. He stuffed it in his pocket and asked, "Anything you want me to do?"  
  
"You've done enough," she replied, turning to smile at him. He leaned down and kissed her gently. He had packed her books and bedding and toiletries. He had been designated to furniture duty along with Danny, Sam, and their friends. She finished with that drawer and moved to the last drawer, the drawer filled with her shorts and pants and skirts.  
  
He placed his drink on the floor and allowed his right hand to massage her neck and shoulders. He looked around the bare room. Her CD player sat on the floor, blinking at him. He looked down at her neck and memorized the freckles and beauty marks there.  
Goodbye to you  
  
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew You were the one I loved  
  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to  
Greg sighed and asked, "When are your brothers coming?"  
  
"Five fifteen."  
  
He reached down and grabbed her left arm. It was just after four. "When are you going to be done?"  
  
Emily smiled down into the clothes. She didn't bother to fold the remaining clothes. Instead, she tossed the rest of them into the box and stood up. She grabbed the tape and sealed the box. She dropped onto the mattress next to Greg and reached for his hand. She kissed his palm and said, "I think after this, we should go to the kitchen."  
  
Greg smiled and scooted closer to her. "Balcony?"  
  
She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't forget the wall."  
  
"Or the shower."  
  
I still get lost in your eyes  
  
And it seems that I can't live a day without you  
  
Closing my eyes and you chase my thoughts away  
  
And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time  
  
I want what's yours and I want what's mine  
  
Goodbye to you  
  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to  
  
The seven adults stood in the hallway just outside the break room. Emily and Greg had just gone through her locker. Greg held her things in a bag as she said goodbye. Her jacket was hanging over his arm. A picture of the two of them, one he knew she had another copy of, was tucked into his back pocket. It was the two of them in the Layout Room, looking at DNA charts on the lighted table. Nick had taken it as he had practiced his photography techniques one night. Greg liked it because the light was shining on her face and hair, making her look slightly angelic.  
  
Catherine embraced Emily. Greg couldn't hear their muffled voices. The investigators had formed a semi-formed line down the wall; he was at the end. He studied the reflection of the lights on the floor as Emily tearfully said their goodbyes. The afternoon had been terrific for the most part. He loved being physically close to her. He would miss her warmth. Her brothers showed up on time and the moving began. Just like every other moving expedition anyone had ever been on, small fights erupted over even smaller things. Greg and Danny had bickered for the better part of the hour they had been together. The remaining three boys kept running into things they couldn't see with the boxes in their arms. Tuesday had been excited with all the people and kept running around, barking and getting underfoot. Emily, Greg noticed, held back tears.  
  
That was about when Greg decided he hated himself for making Emily sad more than he hated Emily for leaving.  
  
Emily laughed with Warrick about something. Greg scuffed the floor with his shoe. Warrick spoke with a serious tone, but his words ran together as far as Greg could tell. Emily squeezed his one last time and moved to Nick.  
  
Nick held her close and whispered, "I'm glad you were here."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
"Don't do anything stupid, all right?"  
  
Emily rolled her eyes over his shoulder and pulled back. "Don't worry."  
  
Grissom stood next to Nick. He expected a small embrace but Emily surprised him, and everyone else, by throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. Catherine, Warrick, and Nick eased into the break room. They watched through the glass. She whispered, "Thank you so much for everything, Grissom."  
  
"It was my pleasure," he replied. "You changed a lot of things around here, you know."  
  
"I have that effect," she grinned. She pulled back and said, "Thank you for transferring me."  
  
Grissom chuckled. He had forgotten her bumpy start. "Again, my pleasure."  
  
Emily smiled and moved to the left. She and Sara embraced for a long time. Sara said, "You've been interesting, you know that? It was nice having you around." Emily smiled. They didn't remind each other of their not-so- friendly start. Sara grinned and said, "Besides, if it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have him." Sara nodded toward Grissom, who was edging toward the break room.  
  
"I'm glad you two are together." Emily sighed and cast her eyes to the left. Greg stood about five yards down the hall. "Wish me luck."  
  
"You don't need it," Sara whispered. She squeezed Emily's hand. "Have a safe ride." Sara disappeared into the break room. She sat at the table with the other investigators. They looked through the glass, forgetting the need to look inconspicuous.  
  
Greg stayed slouching against the wall and kept his eyes on the floor. Emily came to stand in front of him and his eyes focused on her black flip- flops. He took a deep breath. She studied his downcast face and whispered with fake cheer, "It's not forever."  
  
"It's a fucking long time, Emily." Emily had told him that the earliest possible time she could come back to Las Vegas was in late July, probably early August. Emily pulled her lips between her teeth. "You can come see me, you know."  
  
"I get two weeks vacation a year, Emily," he stated dryly. "I took one of them the first week in January. I do need to see my family."  
  
"You get days off and-"  
  
"Emily."  
  
Emily sighed. "I didn't want to fight with you either." She looked to her right for a moment and said, "I'm going to miss you."  
  
"I'm going to miss you, too."  
  
She took a step forward, flanking his feet with hers. His eyes swept up her body and landed on her lips. His right hand involuntarily rose and cupped her neck. "Be safe driving, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I mean it."  
  
"I'm being serious," she whispered. A tear escaped her right eye and it slid down her smooth cheek.  
  
Greg felt moisture in his own eyes. Soon, tears escaped his eyes as well. "Fuck," he whispered. He noticed Emily starting to shake and he pulled her tightly against him. Her hands gripped his back. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right," she mumbled against his neck. They stood there, leaning into each other, for a few minutes. Finally, she pulled back and wiped at her cheeks with her hands. He cleared his face as well. She looked at her watch and nodded slowly. "I love you."  
  
Greg clenched his hands into fists. "I love you, too."  
  
Emily nodded. This was the end she had been dreading for three months. She took another deep breath and leaned forward, rising to her toes. She lightly pressed her lips against his mouth. She felt slight pressure from him, but he didn't pursue her any further. She pulled away and rested her hand on his chest. It slid down as she took the jacket from his arm and the bag from his hand. She looked up at him one more time. "Bye, Greg."  
  
He forced himself to watch her walk away. She moved slowly; he knew she was crying by the way her shoulders shook ever so slightly. She disappeared around the corner and immediately it felt as though he had been sucker-punched in the stomach. His insides ached and his lips parted. He needed oxygen but all the air in the hallway wasn't sufficient for him. He shakily pushed himself off the wall and walked in the opposite direction to the locker room.  
  
What do you think I would give at this moment  
  
If you'd stay I'd subtract twenty years from my life  
  
I'd fall down on my knees, kiss the ground that you walk on  
  
If I could just hold you again 


	29. Epilogue

Title Pending  
  
By Jess  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter 23.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Author's Notes: All right, this is the finale. I couldn't leave you with such a sad, sad ending. :)  
  
I would like to take this time and thank Marita. It is because of you helping me TEN MONTHS AGO (whoa!) and telling me to just scroll down and I will see Document Manager that this story is even here. I would have just quit because I'm computer illiterate and this story never would have made it out. So thank you for tolerating me and helping me share my words. And Grav, thanks for that kick in the butt. I didn't think anyone cared anymore. :)  
  
Oh, and this will FOREVER be called Title Pending.  
Epilogue  
  
Orlando was different from Las Vegas. There was grass, for one, and it hadn't been transplanted. There were live oaks and pine trees scattered across the myriad of palm trees; the palm trees sadly reminded him on the casinos he realized he missed. He usually didn't set foot into them; gambling was a nasty habit he didn't want to start. Aside from the vegetation, the weather was also reminding him that he had it good in Vegas. Sure, both cities were ridiculously hot. Vegas, though, lacked the humidity that Orlando seemed to bathe in. Leaning against a shady laurel oak, Greg felt the sweat trickle down his spine and he cursed the heat. He could practically see the heat swirling over the people around him.  
  
He had found out twelve days ago that he would be attending Emily's college graduation. Her mother had called him at work when Emily and her brothers were somewhere in Georgia. She had offered him an extra ticket and begged for him to come.  
  
How could he have said no?  
  
Danny hadn't been too happy to see him when Greg had arrived at Emily's parent's house that morning. Emily had left for the graduation an hour earlier; the timing was executed perfectly. Sammy had smiled and shook his hand. Greg introduced himself to her parents and her little sister Kelly. Kelly looked like a miniature version of Emily; the only difference was the mischievous gleam in her eye that Emily lacked.  
  
He had driven his rental car behind the family's car. He had sat with them. He had walked out early to surprise Emily. Sammy was to lead her to the oak tree. Greg hoped he really did. As he looked around, he didn't see anyone familiar. Living in Las Vegas without Emily had been harder than expected. He had gotten used to having someone in his apartment. He had gotten used to only sleeping on half a bed, sharing the cleaning responsibilities, hearing the clicking of Tuesday's toenails, seeing Emily walk in with a take-out bag from Leonardo's. It was difficult to come home from work in the early morning and not have someone to watch the morning news with. He missed her smell, her body, her presence, her heart. He missed the way she loved him unconditionally, after all the stupid things he had done.  
  
Phone calls were impossibly frequent between he and Emily. She called him all through the night. In the beginning of their separation, she had woken up frequently from sleeping just to tell him hello. He called her during the day, unable to sleep without her, and informed her of the cases. She rarely asked of the other investigators; she missed him. It made him feel special.  
  
Graduates and family members rushed around him, screaming and laughing and crying. He looked around impatiently. He saw a flash of red curls and smiled. When he had arrived this morning, he had discovered that Sammy had dyed his blonde curls auburn. It suited him. He heard her voice before he saw her.  
  
"Sammy, where are we going?"  
  
"Amy wanted to talk to you. She's over here."  
  
"I'm seeing Amy tonight, Sam." She sounded aggravated. "I don't think she'll mind if I don't see her right now."  
  
"Trust me, you're going to want to see her." Sammy came to stop five feet in front of Greg and pulled Emily from out behind him, releasing her wrist. She stumbled in front of him and put her hands on her gown-covered hips. She turned to Sam and started to speak but he pointed over her shoulder. She sighed and turned again to face Greg.  
  
Her lips parted to inhale the oxygen around her. He could see her eyes move over him quickly, revealing her firing synapses. She was desperately trying to find out what was happening. Finally, she spoke.  
  
"Greg."  
  
He smiled. He never paused to watch her mouth move as she said his name. It was one more thing on the list of things he had missed. "Hey beautiful."  
  
He saw out of the corner of his eyes Emily's mother touch her hand to her heart. Mr. Reese led the family away, to leave the two alone.  
  
Seeming to fly through the air, Emily's arms were quickly around him. Her embraced her and closed his eyes, burying his face into her neck. He felt tears wetting his own neck. "I missed you so much," she cried softly.  
  
People passing the two turned to look with smiles on their faces. Greg and Emily did not notice. They stood there for many minutes, clutching for the life they had experienced for four months in Las Vegas. Greg ran his hands over her black gown and sighed. She felt the same but he had an irking feeling that things had changed. They had spent two weeks apart. They had become independent of each other. Perhaps she wouldn't accept his offer.  
  
He finally pulled away and held her shoulders. Her hands gripped his forearms. Greg smiled. "You look beautiful." She laughed and rubbed at her cheeks. He leaned in and kissed her cheeks. "You're not splotchy."  
  
"I can't believe you're here," she whispered, searching his face for differences. Time usually caused people to be remembered differently. His face had been seared onto her cortex; everything was the same but better.  
  
"You're mom called me. I saw you graduate," he confessed. "I was sitting with your family. You didn't trip."  
  
She laughed, recalling her earlier fear. She reached forward and ran her hand down his chest. "You look nice." Her eyes floated over his midnight blue button down shirt and tie and charcoal slacks. She settled on his neck and said, "Oh, I got your collar wet." She rubbed at it momentarily but just settled on rubbing his shoulder. "God, you look so good." She stepped forward and kissed him, their first kiss since her departure at the crime lab.  
  
Greg fell back into time when her lips captured his. He held her head in his hands and relished in the sensation of her hands on his waist, her lips on his. Her caress confirmed what he was wondering. He broke the kiss and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.  
  
Confusion swept across her features. "What's this?"  
  
"It's a request," Greg answered, watching her unfold the paper. Her eyes scanned the words. "A proposal to come back to the crime lab... to me."  
  
Emily frowned at her paper until she finished reading it. Her eyes slipped up to his and she raised her eyebrows. "I have a job?"  
  
"If you'll take it."  
  
She sighed and grabbed his hands, the letter floating to the ground. "Would you take me?"  
  
They were the last words spoken for the rest of the time Greg and Emily stood under the tree. They clung to each other until the crowd began to thin. They silently walked to Greg's car, fingers linked, arms brushing. He looked down at her as they walked and slowly bobbed his head. All the decisions that he had been waiting to make his entire life, the choices that would affect him forever, were no longer pending.  
The end. 


End file.
